Far Flung: The Light in the Black
by Captain Yaple
Summary: When a warp drive accident propels a Guardian out in the black, he finds rescue, and an opportunity to free his world of darkness once and for all. Will he fly back with a fleet in tow? Or will he succumb to the curse that follows him? For the black is dark and empty, and light can only shine so far...
1. Chapter One: Serenity

"_What separates us from the Darkness? It is neither our technology nor our strength in battle. It is our minds, civilization and potential. Why else would the Traveler have chosen us? The Last City can be more than a cradle of refugees. It cries out for a guiding hand that can bring out its best._"

— New Monarchy recruitment speech

Waking up, however seamless it could be, was never quick. Over the course of human history, many attempted to defy sleep, in keeping mental pace from it or chasing it from their minds, but sleep always won. Exhaustion always triumphed. As annoying or hated as it could be, it was necessary to all, human or otherwise. The human body, like any other body, needed rest, the brain most especially. It was unavoidable.

Waking was always taken at it's own pace. If you got up, attained alertness, attempted to cheat it, you'd fail. It would persist, as long as it wanted. If one embraced it, however, as Corsair had unwillingly done, it was far gentler. All that registered was a haze as the darkness of sleep clung futilely, slowly letting go. Then, the senses began working. The air was acrid, the mouth dry, sharp noises in the ears, and finally, the eyes opened to a new darkness, the kind peppered with spots of light in every direction that did nothing to abate the surrounding black. Corsair sat in his one person jumpship, looking at the stars.

He coughed, realizing the smoke in the air. The source was a small console fire on the roof of the cockpit, and Corsair patted it out hurriedly. How long had he been out? He surveyed the cockpit, ruined as it was (but still intact), as a small tetrahedral object materialized before him.

"Finally!" His Ghost replied, rims spinning gently. "You've been out for about half an hour. Last I checked, you had a concussion and several broken ribs." A bright beam of light from the Ghost's eye scanned over Corsair's body briefly, "Seems to be fully healed now. That jump took a lot out of both of us, it seems." He said, floating back an inch or two.

"Yeah, feels great," Corsair grumbled, albeit feeling relatively fine, "I take it you put out a distress call, Gale?" He narrowed his eyes. If he'd been asleep for as long as Gale implied, help should've come by now; he didn't need to be a warlock to know that. Hell, Epsilon would've been right behind him. Corsair had expected when the NES drive test went wrong at first to wake up in the tower, or at least solid ground.

Epsilon-5, his fellow fireteam member, had come to him with a new drive core Dead Orbit had been working on, wanting to make nice with New Monarchy before asking for one of their own endeavors (A fact Epsilon was _not_ supposed to have told Corsair, but seemed happy to share regardless. Friendship overrode political boundaries most of the time). Dead Orbit had wanted results, not just for the test, and had chosen Corsair to approach. Corsair, Epsilon, and their titan, Zinara, had torn the heart out of the black garden and murdered a hive god, which made them celebrities, and it was only natural for Dead Orbit to utilize those bonds.

The test had gone well, until the tail of an unforeseen solar flare had affected the warp corridor, sending Corsair off at unprecedented speed. Epsilon had said something over comms about gravitational displacement, or distortion, Corsair hadn't really been paying attention, instead focusing on not being blown into a million little pieces. When the warp corridor finally broke down, he'd been thrown from the deceleration. The size of the cockpit, and the integrity of the plexiglass, had ensured his own personal flight was a short one.

Gale hesitated, "I have but...we've travelled several million light years, Guardian." He admitted, "Beyond our solar system, and then some."

Corsair frowned, letting that sink in, "and I presume our fancy new warp drive is operating in pristine condition?" He mused, taking a glance at _The Visible Hand_ out of the window. Several pieces, and if Corsair guessed, an engine had been torn away, the pieces somewhere back along their route give or take a thousand light years...or two.

"Very funny," Gale mused, scanning the burnt out controls of the craft, "It's burned out completely. Even if it weren't, it'd take decades to get home."

"We have time," he smirked, trying to make light of the situation by pulling Gale's metaphorical leg. He couldn't imagine his friends' faces in 50 years, claiming the drive test to be a complete success, but only once.

Gale gave his best equivalence of an eye roll, impressive as he had only one, "That's if it was working. We have one working engine, half the ship is missing, we're leaking fuel-"

Corsair took this opportunity to cut in, "You're tenser than usual," he looked Gale straight on, "What's the biggest issue right now?" He asked, trying to get his loyal friend on track. Sometimes he could ramble.

"Oh," Gale said, not missing a beat, "you're about to run out of oxygen and die in the vastness of space."

Corsair paused, blinking at the news. "So," he said after a moment's contemplation, "a Dead Orbit fanatic's wet dream come true."

"I'm sure Epsilon would enjoy this immensely," Gale chirped nonchalantly, "probably helps he doesn't have to breathe." Corsair's helmet vanished onto him, "your armor should have an hour or two of air. I'll depressurize the ship to spare what little we have." With that, he vanished into thin air, Corsair feeling his movements slow in response to the new lack of atmosphere.

"Alright." Corsair said, "let's keep broadcasting our distress beacon, can't hurt." He pulled the cockpit release lever, letting zero-g take him, "in the meantime, let's fix what we can."

* * *

Corsair had been in many stressful situations. He was only 7 years old, but that time was spent as a Guardian, which was hardly idle. He'd travelled all across the solar system, fought countless enemies, faced down true darkness, cheating death all the while, either by skill or by Light.

Out of all that, including the black garden, Crota, and his Swarm, this had to be the most stressed he had ever been.

Sure, there were plenty of times he had nearly died, but this was different. The ship's CO2 filtration system was limping, even after repairs. Gale estimated they had around 8 hours of oxygen left, unless they somehow acquired the parts to build a completely new life support system. The engine had some parts they could use, but a scan from Gale told them taking it apart in zero gravity could blow up the entire ship...or rather, what was left of it.

Every other time he was in danger, Corsair had something he could do, but ultimately, he was at the mercy of the universe. If a ship didn't pass by (something possible, but highly unlikely), Corsair would die. Sure, Gale would resurrect him, but only for him to asphyxiate and die once again. It wasn't only an exercise in futility, dying over and over on his way home, but it was something Corsair definitely wasn't looking forward to.

As he attempted to at least get the one engine running before his timely demises, Gale chirped into activity within his helmet. "Corsair!" He said, "I'm picking up a transmission!"

"Seriously?" Corsair lost his grip on the wing almost immediately, only just managing to get it back, "And here I thought the Traveler's Light didn't shine out here." The arrival of a ship was lucky. If they weren't hostile, they'd help. If they were hostile, he'd try to negotiate before killing them all and taking their ship. Their mistake for trying to pick on a Guardian with the foreverness of space as an alternative. He would take the latter, if it guaranteed a lasting survival.

"I'll patch it in now," Gale chirped. Again, Corsair glanced around the blackness, attempting to spy their would-be rescuer.

"_-epeat, unidentified ship, this is the transport ship Serenity. Do you read?"_ A man's voice came through in clear english, surprising Corsair. Was Dead Orbit out this far and didn't tell anyone? "_Our captain wants to make sure you're alive, before...you know. If you're there. At all. In this deep and utter vastness of-"_

"Gale, open comms. Yes!" Corsair said, "this is the New Monarchy ship _Visible Hand_, we're alive!" He said, letting out a breath of relief.

"_Oh, thank God!" _The voice on the other end exclaimed. "_We're about ten minutes out from your location, and we couldn't be sure you weren't a space serial killer, or, you know, dead._"

Corsair had to smile at that. He honestly had been dead not too long ago. "I don't know, it sure felt like it for a while there. I have enough air to last, _Serenity_, Corsair out" He said, Gale chirping again as the connection cut out.

"Guardian..." Gale piped up, "I've made contact with their ship's mainframe during your conversation, and it seems they're not from the city." Corsair had relaxed for the moment, slipping his arm around some part of the ship to hold himself in place. No use wasting energy. The fuel line was patched, some important pieces were accounted for. If not for the oxygen, he'd be content to drift back to Earth himself.

"Considering how far out we are? I figured that."

"They also seem to be human."

"I figured that, too." Nevertheless, it had gotten Corsair's attention. "Humans? Out here?" He asked, slightly incredulous in his tone.

"Their history is publicly available. What used to be called an internet, they now call a cortex, for some reason. I guess because it sounds cool." Gale hovered by Corsair's face, right outside the helmet, "from what I can tell, American and Chinese spacecraft left Earth after a great cataclysm of some kind, they don't say what, and set out to terraform new worlds and settle there"

"Well, we're already in a Dead Orbit fanatic's wet dream come true, why not?" He muttered to himself, "didn't others do the same thing, got hit by the Darkness, and became the Awoken?"

"They did. Apparently these people did the same. As I said, mostly American and Chinese ships. Both cultures have unified completely, though there was a war 5 years ago between the Anglo-sino alliance and the independents. It's funny, they were fighting over the expansion of government power," Gale explained, ending in an almost teasing tone of voice. Corsair had joined up with New Monarchy shortly after the black garden. Expansion of government power, though they didn't like to tout it too much, was their thing.

"And how did that go?" He asked, mentally timing _Serenity_'s arrival. New Monarchy had a small section devoted to first contact scenarios, though with the various alien races in Sol, they were hardly referred to. One of the lesser executors had made a small addendum, 'if it doesn't shoot at you, for the love of the Traveler, don't shoot at it'. While lacking in verbal finesse, it had proved too agreeable to get rid of.

"The Alliance had the support of the core worlds." Gale said, "industry, money, influence...to say the Alliance had the better hand is an understatement. The Independents practically didn't have a hand at all. A few manufacturing centers and infrastructure, but nothing significant enough to matter."

Corsair nodded, "so, three guesses who declared war," he thought to himself.

"The cortex says the Independents made their declaration first, and I'm inclined to believe them. Their declaration involves quite a few grievances that would cause riots in the city."

"This all sounds rather straightforward, if you ask me." Corsair said, finally spotting movement in the blackness, pulling his scathelocke auto rifle out of his inventory. "Well, there's our ride." He said, looking down the scope. It'd be better if he had a sniper rifle, but he never used them. To the others in the tower, it was simply not his style. To him and Zinara, it was because he was the absolute worst shot. "No weapons I can see, looks to be pretty small."

The ship itself was about twice the width of a standard jumpship, and three times as long. The entire thing was gray, with the exception of the back, which was bright yellow. The whole thing looked like a Firefly. "I mean, it is a Firefly-class transport, I guess it's aptly named." Gale said, when Corsair remarked on it.

The voice came back into Corsair's ear, "_Serenity on approach. We have you in sight, _Visible Hand. _We can...oh, you're outside._" He said, with a hint of mild surprise.

Gale had vanished already, as he'd learned to do at a moment's notice in combat. "Had to do some repairs," Corsair waved to the man, "open your airlock, we can discuss the salvage of my ship," he said, seeing the pilot in the window wave back.

"_Copy that,"_ the man said, "_half of it looks to be missing, though. It really worth keeping?"_ he asked as a ramp on the front of the ship began to lower.

"Unfortunately, it's not mine." Corsair pushed off from his ship, drifting towards the open door, and the fresh oxygen beyond, and he felt his scathelocke vanish into his inventory. "Corsair out."

His boots hit the ramp directly, magnetically connecting, Gale chirping to life in his helmet, "so how exactly are we going to play this? I don't suppose we can introduce ourselves as a noble Guardian from Earth, and his Ghost"

Corsair thought a moment while he took a few steps up to the inner door, tapping it three times. "Not at first," He said as the ramp began to rise behind him. "This is a first contact situation, but we know nothing about these people. We can do some recon before we tell them who we are. For now, I'm a stranded traveler whose ship was blown to pieces, working for a humanitarian agency known as New Monarchy. Would that be suspicious?" He asked as he heard the ramp click shut, then a new thought occurred to him. "Gale, we can't use transmat in front of these people. Can my helmet be removed manually?"

Gale actually sighed, "your armor already does. Every Guardian's does. No one ever actually does it manually." He said with a slightly resentful tone.

"Oh." Corsair felt the awkwardness, but was cut off from any further comments as the inner door opened.

Three figures stood before him. The one in the lead was obviously the captain of the ship. He wore a gun on his hip, hands clear of it, but something told Corsair they'd be ready to move at a moment's notice. The others, a man and a woman, held an auto rifle and a small shotgun, respectively. They held their guns openly, albeit at ease due to numbers and arms. The unspoken deference to the captain was thick enough to cut with a knife, at least from the woman. The man was a bit harder to read.

The man Corsair suspected as the captain also stood in the center, in front of the two. Always a dead giveaway.

Corsair reached up, quickly finding the seam in his helmet, and pulled gently. It took a light tug, but it disengaged relatively quickly. He lifted his helmet off his head for what seemed like the first time, as it was, and let it fall to his side.

Corsair took pride in his appearance when he could. The benefit of having a helmet being transmatted on constantly was that he never got helmet hair, a fact that would likely change with his new circumstances. His skin was light, and his eyes were blue, like the sky covered by a thin sheen of clouds. His hair was light brown, and short, and he stood close to 6 feet tall.

After an awkward moment of silence, Corsair decided to break it, "thank you," he said, then extended a hand, "Corsair."

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," came the stern reply as he took Corsair's hand, in a startlingly familiar voice, "welcome aboard the _Serenity_, Mr...Corsair," he said, slightly uncertain about the name, but Corsair couldn't care less. His mood was morphing back and forth from curiosity to mild shock.

"J-just Corsair is fine," he stammered out quickly, and the captain must've sensed his unease by the expression on his face, "I'm sorry," Corsair managed, "but your voice is...exactly the same as one of my bosses."

Reynolds raised his eyebrows, mildly shocked at the idea, more surprise than offense. "Huh," He said, a suitable response, "that a fact?" He asked, clearly not sure how to react to that. His companions were exchanging confused glances, and Corsair didn't blame them.

"It is," he replied, "could you say the words, 'get me out of this tower'?" He asked, probably going off topic, but it was too insane to not address.

"Erm..." Reynolds hesitated. It was probably nowhere near the list of things he thought he'd be dealing with today when he woke up this morning. "Get me out of this tower?' He said, with a bit of reluctance.

Corsair couldn't believe what he was hearing. It had been slow, it had been reluctant, without any of his energy behind it, but it was a dead ringer for the famous hunter Cayde-6. "okay, _this?_ This is insane. It's probably the oxygen deprivation."

"Got a brother we don't know about, sir?" The woman to Reynolds' left spoke up, her tone lacking in emotion as she regarded Corsair. The entire way she stood and analyzed things screamed military.

Unfortunately, her words just made it worse. His eyes widened further, "no way." He said, more to himself than any of the others in front of him. After another moment, he caught onto the room's confusion. "You're not going to believe this. She sounds exactly like my other boss." Corsair had to take a step back. The trio were still looking at him as if he was crazy, but he stopped caring. He turned to the man on Reynolds' right. "Alright, so if this is three for three, I will go ahead and shoot myself now. Say something, please." He said tentatively, not sure if he wanted to be right or wrong.

The man sneered at him in a way that dismissed him while looking right at him, "I ain't your boss, pretty boy." He said in a gruff, uncultured voice, the polar opposite of commander Zavala. "'Less of course you want me to be." He said with a grin.

Corsair was unimpressed. "Evidently not." He said, not breaking eye contact, and thankful he was wrong. He honestly would've shot himself if he found out these three were the voices of the Vanguard leaders. One was a weird coincidence, two was suspicious, three was the part where you started running.

A moment passed before the captain coughed into his hand, "these here are my crew members, Zoe and Jayne." He gestured to reach one respectively, obviously trying to move past the exchange. "We're currently on our way to Boros, with a detour past whitefall. We can let you off at either one, though Boros might be more your type." He crossed his arms, "Dohn luh ma?"

Corsair blinked at the Chinese, careful not to ask any questions that would give him away. "Boros is fine," he decided, "I'll have to contact my superiors, apprise them of my situation. Would it be possible to take my ship with us, captain?" He asked, holding his arms behind him as he stood up a little straighter. It didn't matter how long he'd be here, he was _not_ leaving a New Monarchy prototype out in the middle of nowhere for anyone to find.

Jayne scoffed, "looked like crap to me. Wash said it ain't even yours." He had lowered his gun, as had Zoe, but she'd holstered hers. Something told Corsair that guns were the man's main skill set.

"Jayne, your mouth is moving, might wanna look to that." Zoe countered. Mal hadn't introduced her as his second in command, but she clearly was. Reynolds had more than her loyalty, he had her respect.

"To answer your question," Corsair butted in before Jayne could shoot back, "this ship is special, to put it simply. It has valuable prototype technology, first of...well, third of its kind, but first that actually worked."

"Seeing as how half your ship's missing," Reynolds shrugged, "I'd be a mite disagreeable on that."

Corsair gave him a look, then continued, "failed prototypes are still valuable. If you were to help return it, with my good recommendation..." he looked between the three of you, "I suspect my superiors would make it worth your while."

Finally, it seemed he spoke a language the captain understood, his entire figure relaxing as he saw the opportunity of the situation. "Well," He said, giving a charming (if slightly overt) smile, "who am I to stand in the way of progress?" he offered his hand, and Corsair took it. "You have a deal, Mis...uh, Corsair."

"Thank you captain." Corsair smiled back, "if you have spacesuits, we can get to work."

* * *

With the help of Jayne and the pilot, named Wash, the remaining half of the _Visible Hand_ was now safely inside _Serenity_'s cargo bay, and thankfully not taking up too much room. Thankfully, Corsair and Gale had managed to get the one remaining engine working temporarily, just in time for it to blow out (with no adverse effects on _Serenity_) as the cargo bay doors were sealed.

The captain, further cooperative with the promise of a fine reward, had regardless assured him that they had a schedule to keep, but Corsair dragged his feet by way of a few essential repairs. The captain had begrudgingly agreed, especially after Corsair mentioned the leaking fuel line. In truth, he'd already fixed it in his earlier spacewalk, but enough fuel had leaked that Wash could pick it up on sensors. Under the pretense of those quick repairs while Jayne and Mal suited up, Gale told Corsair about their new friends.

Malcolm Reynolds and his second, Zoe, were soldiers, which Corsair had guessed instantly. They'd fought for the independents, who'd been dealt their most crippling blow at the battle of Serenity valley. The origin of his ship's name wasn't much of a mystery after hearing that.

When Gale had gotten to Jayne, it seemed the man had hardly anything formal on the Cortex, merely a rap sheet, and Corsair hoped there was more to the man than that.

The ship itself was a Firefly class transport ship, something that actually traced back to Earth, or Earth-that-was, as the people here called it. Serenity was the most recent iteration, and apparently the last. For what looked to be a beautiful ship, her uniqueness and relative rarity made her even more so. Cayde had mentioned one time about his own Firefly, but Corsair hadn't been able to pry much out of him. There was still the mystery of Cayde and Reynolds having the same voice, as Ikora and Zoe did, but honestly? Both Corsair and Gale had no clue whatsoever where to start with that.

After a little less than half an hour of 'repairs', Gale feeding him relevant information, and guiding the _Visible Hand_ into the cargo bay, Corsair felt ready to integrate himself with this new society, provided no one threw him any curveballs. It was a bit dishonest, but he felt, for the sake of both societies, his true identity might benefit from some secrecy for now. Gale had been able to formulate a basic identity for him, but wouldn't be able to insert it into any military or police database unless by local insertion. Thankfully, Corsair wouldn't need to do so until he needed it anyway, so there was no rush.

Once the cargo bay was repressurized, Corsair removed his helmet once again to hear footsteps coming down the catwalk. The footsteps belonged to a smaller man who whistled as he looked over the _Visible Hand_, Zoe in tow right behind him.

His chinese was too quick for Corsair to catch, but his voice was just enough to identify him as his radio friend, Wash. "I haven't seen a ship like this in..." He spoke, eyes drifting over the traditional crimson frame of the craft, "...about never." He looked to Corsair, "she looks fast, how fast is she?" He asked, his piloting enthusiasm bleeding into his voice as he slipped his way down one of the stairways. Zoe was less verbal, but she too had a curiosity in her eyes.

"It's a bleeding edge prototype," He replied, as Wash got down to walk around the other side of the ship, "I'm not allowed to say."

Wash stood still and thought for a moment, "so...very fast then?"

Corsair actually had a chuckle at that, nodding, "faster than yours, that's for sure. Definitely not as pretty, though." He glanced to his left, where the captain and Jayne had fully doffed their spacesuits.

The big mercenary (for he had to be a mercenary, just going off what Corsair knew) eyed him cautiously. "Say there, what kinda gun is that on your hip?" He asked, and immediately Corsair became confused.

Corsair glanced down at his right side, saw the gun there, and immediately felt his heart sink in his chest. Keeping his composure as best he could, he looked back to Jayne and shrugged, "just a hand cannon. Never know what you might encounter out here." He said quickly, wanting desperately to take the gun, march over to the airlock, and throw it out into the abyss, never to be seen again. Unfortunately, they'd already seen him with it, and now their eyes were upon him.

"Very weird looking," Wash said, peering at it, then back up at Corsair, "almost evil, isn't it, honey?" He looked back to his wife, who nodded skeptically. "Where'd you get it?" He asked, and Corsair saw the captain taking a look from where he stood by Jayne, though he didn't say anything. He was curious just like his crew was, though, Corsair could tell.

"It was a gift," he supplied, "one I honestly wasn't planning on keeping. It would probably even fetch a nice price." Corsair smiled, the lies coming as easily as lies could.

"Gotta say," Reynolds chimed in, putting his spacesuit away, "gifts are meant to be taken advantage of most of the time."

"Well, this was from someone...you wouldn't want a gift from" Corsair thought of Xur, and why he might've given it in the first place. "But enough about it, do you have any tarps to spare, captain? As I mentioned, brand new stuff, I'd prefer not to take any chances." It was actually old technology, by the city's measure, but it was at least a century ahead of anything onboard _Serenity_. Keeping it hidden was his top priority at the moment.

Reynolds nodded in turn, "might need more than one, but it's doable," he said, Jayne immediately moving to a cabinet somewhere, his eyes now glancing over the ship in his cargo bay, then back to his mysterious visitor. "That is, if your employers make mighty good on that reward you promised on their behalf..." He trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Corsair.

"They will, captain," Corsair assured him as Jayne tossed Reynolds the other end of a tarp he'd grabbed, "we may be a small organization, but we pay our debts, however unofficial they may be." He gave a pleasant smile, helping to cover as much of the _Visible Hand_ that he could.

Reynolds nodded, "Alright, well, dinner's in about an hour. Jayne'll show you to your quarters." He gestured to the big man, then offered Corsair a hand, "in the meantime, just stay out of trouble, and we'll get you back to civilization before you know it." Jayne started to grunt something in protest, but his captain silenced him with a glance.

Corsair shook the outstretched hand, "of course, captain. Thank you for everything." He smiled back, although it seemed the captain was primarily interested in his reward than simply being generous.

The captain left, though Wash approached in the meantime, Zoe lingering nearby, and Corsair could tell she was eyeing him in a tactical sense, "are all New Monarchy flight suits so...flashy?" He gestured to Corsair's outfit, which Corsair actually took pride in. The armor he wore was a Raiden Flux vest, thundergod variant, and everything else was Spektar Aspriet. He thought it suited him rather well, being honest.

He smiled at the eager pilot, "it's a custom piece, actually." He explained, "flight suit, space suit, and combat armor. I put it together myself."

Jayne scoffed, "sounds even more expensive," He sneered, though he was eyeing it just as Wash was, "how much it cost ya?"

Corsair thought back to when the Raiden Flux dropped, getting torn apart (literally) by a Vex minotaur, only for Epsilon to vaporize it and Zinara to put a bullet in his head to 'make him heal faster'. "About an arm and a leg." He told Jayne, remembering that day fondly.

"It's awfully shiny though," Wash couldn't help but tap the shoulder pauldron curiously, "how could-"

"WASH!" The captain's voice came through the hallways above, "you're supposed to be flying my ship!"

The smaller man cursed in Mandarin, "be right there!" He called back, moving towards the staircase, "ah, duty calls." He smiled at Corsair, before running up the stairs at top speed. Corsair had to chuckle at that.

Zoe must've seen something in the way Corsair reacted, as she smiled, "I'll make sure the captain don't yell too much at him," She said, moving to follow, "bridge, cargo bay, and the engine room are off limits. If you need, just have Jayne give you the tour."

Corsair turned to Jayne as Zoe ran up the stairs, though not as intently as Wash. Jayne, unlike the others, seemed rather indifferent to it all. He could feel the hum of the ship's engines intensify, taking them further on their journey. "So, shall we?"

Jayne didn't say a word at first, walking towards the lower doorway. Corsair didn't sense any of the loyalty or kindness you'd get from Zoe or Wash. He was truly a mercenary, and though he understood it, he didn't respect it.

"So, Jayne," Corsair attempted to make conversation, "how long have you worked for Reynolds?"

"'Bout a year 'er so," The man said gruffly, "why? You recruiting? Cause, if I get a nice suit like that..."

Corsair shook his head, "custom piece, remember? I'm not letting go of this one so easily." He assured him. They'd come to a small living area, leading to a small room which looked to be a medbay. From there, they'd walked onwards to a hallway of small rooms, one of which Jayne opened without hesitation.

"Here ya go, most private place onboard," He smirked, "trust me, I know." He gave a chuckle at that, leaving Corsair's mind to make the implication. Given the amount of respect he had for Jayne, he ignored it.

"By the way," Jayne looked down at Corsair's hip, "that gun of yours, how much you think you'd be selling it for?" He asked, a curious look in the man's eyes.

Corsair shook his head, "not for sale, at least not yet. It's said to be cursed, and hey," he gave a shrewd grin that might've been unbecoming of him, "people might pay lots of money for something that's cursed."

"Cursed?" Jayne shuddered, "ain't gonna be me, that's for sure." He shook his head, then walked off, leaving the gun to Corsair.

Not that Corsair wanted it, anyway, as he threw it onto the bed in disgust the moment he had the door closed. "Gale?" he asked the empty room, his ghost appearing the moment he did so.

"I know," he floated down to the gun on the bed, "how is it here?"

"You dismantled it, didn't you?" Corsair asked, pacing around the bed.

"I did!" Gale insisted, "although I didn't get any materials or weapon parts from it. Not even glimmer. I didn't think anything of it, until now..." He turned back to it.

Corsair sighed. "A gift, indeed." The Nine had ensured it came into Corsair's possession, and evidently it couldn't be simply tossed away. "It was gone, though. How long was it gone?"

Gale thought a second, taking a break from scanning the weapon, "well, you got it right before we left, and we've been out here for almost two hours. What are we going to do about it?" Corsair didn't have an answer, racking his mind. For what seemed like forever, he just stared at it.

The weapon of sorrow, whose name was Thorn.

Eventually, he decided, "dismantle it again for now." He said, trying his best to be resolute. In truth, seeing it on his hip had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. "We'll figure out what to do to destroy it, if it comes back again."

Even so, as he watched the weapon disintegrate into nonexistence yet again, Corsair wondered if such a thing was even possible.

* * *

Corsair and Gale were still coming up with ideas, as quietly as possible, when there was a knock at the door. Gale vanished, and Corsair stood and opened the door to find a shorter, perky, smiling young woman standing before him. "Hi there!" She said happily, "You must be our new guest. Cap'n said I wasn't to go near your ship. I'm Kaylee," She offered a hand, which Corsair took without hesitation. Corsair had changed into more civilian clothing, a general shirt and pants, in order to not draw as much attention.

"Corsair," he narrowed his eyes, "what do you do here, Kaylee? You seem awfully nice to be working on a ship like this," He made an effort to smile back at her, not that hard as the woman's cheerful demeanor was rather infectious.

Kaylee frowned slightly, "I'm the mechanic," She said, something in her voice displaying a challenging tone, "you sayin' somethin' about my ship?" She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

Corsair paused, then quickly realized what he'd said wrong. If there was anything he'd learned from Holliday, it was to never insult a mechanic's ship under pain of a socket wrench. "Oh, the ship? Absolutely not. I meant that your crewmates, at least the ones I've met, seem a bit...rough?" He wondered aloud if that was the right word, but thankfully Kaylee seemed to understand.

"Yeah, they're like that sometimes. They're really nice once you get to know 'em, and the captain's just tense." She said, "they're all really nice to me cause I keep the ship from falling out of the sky." Corsair had the brief idea of introducing Kaylee to the famed Amanda Holliday. Either it would be the greatest friendship in the history of time, from what little of it he'd spent with Kaylee, or the universe would implode. The two were rather similar, although Holliday was a bit more rough and tough. That at least could be attributed to living in the last city.

"If I am going to say anything about your ship, it's that she's absolutely beautiful." Corsair told her, having learned that trick from Holliday herself. He'd at least make one new friend here.

Kaylee grinned proudly, her warmth almost brightening the room, "why thank you!" She said, relaxing a little bit,

He smiled back at her, realizing he was a bit relaxed himself after that incident with Thorn. "I take it dinner's ready? It's been about an hour." He asked, the idea of food appealing at the moment. He'd expected a quick warp test, not a full blown adventure in the darkness of space.

"That it is! Me and the shepherd made a little somethin'" She informed him, walking along the ship's cozy corridor, then up a flight of stairs for Corsair to follow. "Ain't often we have a nice cooked meal, most of the time it's just protein."

Corsair followed dutifully, not wanting to overstep any hospitality rules they might have here by wandering off. Kaylee actually waited for him to catch up at the top of the stairs before they advanced into the dining room. "Whenever I was deployed, it was protein packets, plus whatever we could catch or gather." He mused, deciding to give them a little bit of his life to think about. It would at least make them trust him a little bit. The best way to lie, most of the time, was to tell the truth. Had Corsair been stranded in the middle of nowhere? Was he military? Did his bosses bear an uncanny resemblance to Mal and Zoe? All of those were true, and thus Corsair could answer them truthfully. As long as no one asked if he was an immortal warrior of the Traveler from Earth-that-was, he would probably be fine.

"All changed when we headed back to base, we called it the Tower." By now, people had begun to pay attention to him. Mal, Zoe, and Jayne were there, though Wash was noticeably absent (he was, after all, the pilot). More so were three men he hadn't met yet. One was in the kitchen, Zoe and Jayne were helping set the table, where the other two already sat down, eyes drawn to the newcomer. Corsair, unabated, continued, "it was on the outside of a small city, and whenever we weren't deployed, we'd get a meal something like this." He nodded to what was being set out, "always sent us out with a smile, eager to return home." He smiled at the thought, then he wondered if he'd ever see it again. At the very least, he was immortal. He'd have all the time in the universe to get back.

"I take it you served in the alliance?" One of the men at the table asked, the one who held himself akin to a refined gentleman.

Corsair nodded his confirmation. He'd realized pretending to be a veteran of the independents would be easily seen through, especially with two veteran independents onboard. "Sergeant in the 106th, specialty in reconnaissance," He sat down in one of the chairs, then noticed Captain Reynolds in the doorway, giving him a serious glare. "That was during the war." He said, giving a diplomatic look in turn, "it hardly matters now." He noticed Zoe had been paying attention to their wordless exchange, and either wisely chose not to say anything or simply had nothing to say. The captain, though his resentment was obvious, evidently decided not to make an issue of it.

The other man, the one who seemed a bit more skittish, spoke up, "well, there are some who still believe otherwise," he said, offering a hand, "Dobson, by the way."

Corsair took it instinctively, "Corsair. Yes, that's my name," he said, seeing the men's looks of confusion, "and you?" He asked the first man, offering him his hand as well.

"Uh...Simon, Simon Tam." He said, "the captain tells us they rescued you?" He asked, a cautious edge to his voice which Corsair couldn't fathom the reason for. Gale could probably tell him, but Corsair had ingratiated himself with the crew, he couldn't simply leave to spy on all his dinner party.

Corsair nodded at that, "my ship was drifting," He said, "I honestly didn't think anyone would come." He said as the third unknown man, likely the shepherd Kaylee had mentioned, came to set the last of the plates on the table.

"The light finds a way," He said in a deep, melodious voice, "Book." He shook Corsair's hand without hesitation.

Corsair raised an eyebrow, quickly figuring the man out. Shepherd was a title, not a name, and the light he referred to probably referred to a religious nature, though Corsair hadn't asked Gale how close to his Light it was. "So what brings a shepherd out here? Spreading the good word?" He asked, knowing he was probably answering his own question.

Book smiled, "more or less." He said, passing one of the dishes per Dobson's request, the entire table filling their plates. Zoe took one and excused herself to give it to Wash. "Does the food look appetizing?"

"Absolutely," Corsair said, several of the others voicing their agreement. He may have been immortal, but he still needed to eat.

"It's the spices," Book said, sitting down, "a man can live on packaged food from here till judgement day if he's got enough rosemary." He looked up to where the captain sat at the head of the table, "Captain, do you mind if we say grace?"

Reynolds looked back to Book blandly, "only if you don't say it out loud." He said, with a degree of finality.

The air around the table went almost awkwardly silent as Reynolds began to eat like nothing happened. Book lowered his head, as did Kaylee, Dobson, and Jayne. Corsair didn't really think Jayne the spiritual type, but evidently the man had a layer or two of complexity he either hid or didn't care to show.

Corsair himself made eye contact with the captain for a split second, not feeling the need to pray. Guardians didn't have to pray to their god, though plenty of people in the last city did.. The Traveler had already chosen them to wield it's Light. Prayer, all guardians agreed, was superfluous at that point.

After the prayer, Corsair took a bite, "wow," he admitted aloud, "you weren't kidding about the spices," he said, attempting to break the awkward air around the table.

The captain actually coughed, nodding his agreement, "we looked up New Monarchy on the Cortex." He said, without much prompting, "it's new, right?"

New Monarchy's cortex presence was relatively recent, and mostly done for the sake of a cover identity, though Corsair thought it would be a nice side project, not knowing how long it would take to fix the warp drive. Through a few loans and investments, courtesy of Gale and his online skills as fast as the connection, though still faster than any human could. A bot could do things just as quick, but Gale had the luxury of being what everyone considered a fully evolved AI. While he could act quicker than any human, he could think just as well as one, making him far more talented than any bot than anyone with a rudimentary computer science education could put together.

"That it is. It's a humanitarian agency." He informed the others around the table who wouldn't have known. "I was brought into it because of my charming demeanor, also because my boss is an old war buddy of mine." Corsair looked around the table, not having intended on becoming the main topic of conversation, but he'd expected it.

"What exactly does New Monarchy do, then?" Book spoke up, intrigued. He'd been intrigued about Corsair since he introduced himself, now that Corsair thought about it.

"First step is general infrastructure." He explained, "if people are starving, they can't be involved in their community or government. Funding hospitals, agriculture, and then there's the fighter in your hangar bay." Corsair shrugged, taking an opportunity to eat a little bit more.

Zoe had returned and started to gather food for her own plate, "so what's a humanitarian agency do with a test fighter?" She asked astutely, her tone matching Ikora's whenever she was curious about something, and Corsair would be lying if he said it didn't put him off at all.

"Well, I...probably am not allowed to talk about it, but I think my boss can forgive me." He slowly decided out loud, though not with too much grief. He was the boss, after all. "Engines are inefficient on smaller vessels. Larger ships can afford better engines, and backups in case they fail," Corsair explained, hardly even lying about the idea. "How expensive is it to maintain _Serenity_'s engine, captain?" He asked Reynolds, deciding not to let him chime in, "imagine if it were a quarter as low, or more. Suddenly, shipping costs go down, not to mention fuel and passenger fees.

"Imagine you're a settler out on one of the outer planets, barely a coin to save your life. Suddenly, things become a lot cheaper. Not only that, your children can afford to potentially leave and get an education. All of society suddenly finds life a lot easier." Corsair finally finished. "The fighter itself was a relatively cheap buy from a bankrupt aerospace company, so we've been using it. We focus on that, and the other things, and onwards until none of it's needed anymore."

The group around the table seemed to agree with it, at least generally. Simon was the first among them to say something, visibly seeming to have been thinking it over, "sounds like quite an endeavor."

"Yeah," Mal muttered, "if it worked."

"I hear the border moons are in bad shape," Dobson chimed in, "plagues and famine..."

"Well, some that's exaggerated, and some of it ain't," Zoe began, but Corsair had begun to lose interest in the conversation, but for the sake of his own epiphany.

In truth, the _Visible Hand_'s engine was entirely for military purposes, dropping guardians into combat in seconds, where some ships did so in 2 minutes or more. Warp drives could get finicky sometimes, the city having to take what it could get but now...Corsair had just realized the immense opportunity of his situation.

The city was boxed in, as it always had been, always put on the defensive. They made baby steps towards taking back their home planet, but ultimately were prevented from standing up on their two feet by the four alien races residing in their solar system.

The people of the alliance, luckily enough, had no such restriction. There were industrial centers and shipyards and, from what Gale told him, an immense farming world. There was an army and a navy and enough resources to take back Earth twice over. The new warp engine had failed, but had yielded something far greater. Corsair resolved, at that moment while Jayne excused himself from the table, that when he returned home, it would be with an army at his back.

"There is, of course, the small matter of the increasingly fascist government in charge." Corsair told Gale when he'd adjourned to his room. "New Monarchy might have to become a more permanent idea." He sat at the edge of his bed, suddenly wary of Thorn appearing somewhere, anywhere. Luckily, it stayed gone.

Gale nodded, as best a ghost could, "I already have several opportunities lined up for us. Some are a simple as giving proper funding, others would require some hands on presence, like ourselves." An information pad transmatted onto the bed, which Corsair readily picked up.

"Hmm..." Corsair read over the list that was on it, a few items added right before his eyes, "a request for medicine on Regina, pirates harassing transports near Silverhold, reavers wiping out another settlement on Aberdeen..." He paused, looking up at Gale, "reavers?" He asked, the term not having come up in their previous conversations.

"From what I can tell, men gone wild on the edge of space, mutilating corpses, eating people, campfire stories, really." Gale explained, "there truly isn't much about them. I doubt they're very talkative themselves."

Corsair perked up slightly, "do you think maybe they mean Fallen?" He asked, some elements of Reavers sounding familiar.

Gale shook himself in a negative gesture. He'd done it before, but it always looked weird. "There are small accounts of reaver encounters, and they seem to be exactly as described. People, but...crazy, I suppose is the right word." He said, "besides, these reavers seem to fly in captured ships. The Fallen would scrap any ship they acquired and modify their ketch with it."

Corsair nodded, then looked at the pad again, "uh, Gale?" He asked, "you just added sev-" he cut himself off, "eight items to this list." He raised an eyebrow. If he wanted to lead these people to retake Earth, they were hardly in the state to do so. Even if he magically had the power to make an instant warp jump to Earth, a government that allowed this many wrong things (not merely small injustices here and there, but the pure lack of regard they had for the rim worlds that had become apparent) would either fail horrendously, or be callous enough to cause problems down the line.

"Yes, as I'm looking more closely, it seems like there's a surplus of people that need help." Gale said, rims twirling in interest, "I trust we won't be making contact with their government, then?" He asked, looking up at Corsair, who shook his head.

"Oh, absolutely not." He scanned down the pad again as more things appeared on the screen, "we've got a long way to go, but at the very least, we can fix one or two things before we get to Whitefall." He laid back in his bed as he tapped the first item on the pad. The next hour would barely be a warm up.

* * *

Thankfully, the new New Monarchy wouldn't have to do as much work by itself, at least at first.

Most of the reports were on border planets, so that's where Corsair concentrated New Monarchy's logistics. The core worlds, from what they'd read, had more than enough resources for everyone, it was just a matter of getting them to part with it, either with words or the ultimate persuasion technique: money.

Money seemed to be the primary issue, with everyone not a core world lacking it. It was a shame, really. The city, large as it was, had a small economic system that was only just big enough that one could theoretically exploit their way upwards, making themselves rich at the expense of others. No one had. The city stared down extinction for several centuries, and the residents had learned more important things than avarice in that time. Love, family, good food, sports, science, and many more. Even so, what was the point of money if it could all be snatched away at a moment's notice?

These alliance types had left Earth and got lucky, luckier than they'd ever realized, and flew like Icarus to heights never seen...and then clipped the wings of anyone below them. Only the core worlds seemed to matter to them, which Corsair despised. If they were Icarus, then Corsair would be the sun.

His train of thought was interrupted when suddenly, without warning, Corsair and Gale found their cortex access cut off.

Gale was, naturally, on it, "guardian, I'm tapped into Serenity's systems, and they just cut off the Cortex access deliberately." He said, "highly unlikely it was because of us. I've been masking our activity. There was another transmission right before they did, to the nearest alliance cruiser."

"Shit." Corsair stood, putting the pad away as it vanished from sight. He stepped up to the door, now wary of whoever might've sent the signal. He didn't think the alliance would take issue with him, though they might definitely take an interest with his ship, and he couldn't let advanced technology fall into their hands. Without further ado, he slipped from his quarters as quietly as he could.

"Shit, indeed." Gale rarely cursed, but this was one of those times. "The message had the authorization of a federal marshall, and requests docking for prisoner transfer. It was cut off before it could transmit anything else."

Corsair racked his brain, mentally eliminating the potential candidates in his mind as Gale vanished from sight, "has to be Dobson, Simon's too tense, too wary of the alliance. Shepard ain't the federal type, unless it's one of the crew." He whispered, hearing noises from the cargo bay. He pulled a knife from nowhere, only making it look like it was from his sleeve. He peered into the doorway of the cargo bay, slipping the knife around to grasp it by the blade, in case he needed to throw it.

Dobson was on the catwalk stairs, holding a gun on Simon and Mal, with Book in the background, walking a bit awkwardly around the wing of the _Visible Hand_. Mal dropped his gun to the ground in response, raising his hands as Simon did. "Simon Tam, you are bound by law to stand down."

Mal seemed to light up at that, "What? The doctor. Oh." He relaxed slightly, then tilted his head, "hey, is there a reward?" He asked. Three guesses what his greatest concern was.

"Get on the ground," Dobson insisted, his gun levelled at Simon, "get on the ground!"

"Lawman, you are making a mistak-" Simon began.

"Best get on the ground son," Mal mumbled gently, "the man seems a mite twitchy."

Book began to inch forward as he spoke, "I think everybody could stand to calm down a bit."

Dobson barely gave the man a glance, "this isn't your business, Shepard!" He said sharply.

"The boy's not going anywhere, lawman," Book kept a straight demeanor, despite the circumstances, "as I understand it, it's pretty cold outside." He pointed out, giving a nod to the airlock behind them.

"Not to worry," Mal said, almost too relaxed for the situation. He leaned down to grab his hand cannon again, "put lord Fauntelroy in one of the passenger cells, he won't make a peep"

"Get the hell away from that weapon!" Dobson turned his gun on Mal now, "Do you think I'm a complete back birth? You're carrying a fugitive across interplanetary borders!" He almost shouted, "You think I believe I believe you're bringing medical supplies to Whitefall? As far as I care, everyone on this ship is culpable!"

"Well now," Mal replied darkly, "that has an effect on the landscape."

Corsair had listened enough. He flashed his knife demonstratively, just enough to get Mal's attention as he stuck to the sidelines, just out of Dobson's view. Mal only glanced over at him for a second, but he gave the slightest of nods as if he understood.

Now was Corsair's time to shine, as the situation devolved into chaos. Like a shadow, he slipped behind Dobson, hooking his arm around the man's neck and pulling. After that, he had nowhere to go but down.

Corsair snatched Dobson's gun from him, holding it in his face before he realized...he'd heard the gun go off. WIth a moment of panic, he turned his head to see Kaylee, standing with a hand on her stomach that grew red as she held it there as others rushed towards her. Shouts followed, and Corsair suddenly felt a hand on the wrist holding the gun. Dobson shoved him upwards, the gun clattering out of his hand, but Corsair had fought much worse than this one human -and mortal -lawman.

He moved quickly, tackling Dobson as he drew his knife to the man's throat, "stay still." he hissed, allowing his knife to draw ever so lightly against the man's skin. Thankfully, he complied.

Jayne rushed in his direction, but Book stepped in his path, Dobson's gun in hand. "Out of the way." He said, fists clenched.

"You're not killing this man." Book insisted, and Corsair forced Dobson up and onto his knees, keeping his knife where it was, in plain view.

"For the record, Jayne, neither am I." He said, then looked to the man he had in his grasp, "we'll resolve this peacefully, Dobson. Until then, you'll stay quiet, dohn mah?" Corsair tilted his head, allowing the one chinese phrase he'd learned to slip through.

"Damn it, Corsair!" He struggled lightly, but not too much, "let me go! I'll-"

A swift punch to the jaw shut him up, Dobson's body dropping to the deck. Corsair nodded at Book, "nice punch." He observed.

Jayne grinned, "alright, now move."

He tried to advance, but Book was unrelenting. "Not gonna happen." Corsair moved beside Book in solidarity, keeping his knife in hand. Everything was falling apart, and he had half a mind to reveal himself now just to keep the peace. Something told him a golden gun would get their attention.

"Jayne!" Corsair looked up, internally wincing at the voice. Zoe stood on a catwalk above them, rifle leveled at Jayne, "just tie him up. Do it." Jayne looked up a moment, then turned away with a grumble, moving to find some rope.

Corsair nodded to Book, then directed his attention to the more urgent matter at hand. Simon knelt over Kaylee, with Reynolds and another woman that Corsair hadn't met yet.

"The infirmary working?" Simon asked, urgently. He'd mentioned he was a trauma surgeon, at least all that tension was being put to good use.

Mal nodded worriedly, "Yeah, we got it stocked."

The two men moved to pick her up, and Corsair stood by, silently offering his help by doing so, when the intercom went off again. "_Captain, we've been hailed by a cruiser ordered to stay on course and dock for prisoner transfer._" Wash said. The air suddenly grew quiet, but after a moment, Simon broke it.

He stood, "change course. Run."

Mal's eyes were full of fire, "Hell with you. You brought this down on us, I'm dumping you with the law."

"Mal-" The woman tried to break in, but Simon had more will at the moment.

"She's dying." Simon stared down the captain.

"You're not gonna let her." Mal gritted.

"Yes I am"

"No you can't." Mal growled, standing.

"Enough!" Corsair shouted, gathering everyone's attention, "she's dying, captain, do it!"

Mal rounded on him, "don't you _dare_ tell me what to do on my ship!" He shouted. His body language was aggressive and dangerous, and any normal person might've acquiesced, not Corsair, not the man who had slain a dark hive god with his own blade.

Corsair stood tall, looking him right back in his eyes, "I'm not afraid of you." He said quietly, taking his knife and visibly putting it away. If he did have to fight Reynolds, he'd have the advantage anyway. "Simon's her only chance." Corsair nodded to her, "we can always go back to them, but for now, we need to run."

Mal fumed, obviously feeling attacked for once, what with the loyalty he usually commanded. "You think-" He began, but cut himself off as Kaylee let out a cry of pain. His face turned grim, from what Corsair could see, as he watched for a long second. "Zoe," his tone was a bit gentler, but still firm as he made a long moment of eye contact with Simon, "change course. Help me get her up."

As Zoe relayed the order, Corsair and the other woman followed the two men, Kaylee in their arms, to the ship's infirmary, lights coming on as they laid Kaylee on the bed.

The next half hour was tense. Corsair helped as best he could, but not very much to begin with. Guardian medical treatment, most of the time, involved a bullet to the head or a warlock's magic. The former would definitely not help, and the latter was several thousand light years away. Mostly, he waited off to the side with the woman, whose name he learned was Inara. Unfortunately, that was all he knew about her. It wasn't really the time for chatting.

When all was said and done, Kaylee laid unconscious on the chair, her wound stitched up, and most of the blood wiped away. Simon had done his job, and he had done it marvelously. At the moment, he took off his gloves and apron, looking down at Kaylee. "Can't do any more until she stabilizes."

"Will she?" Reynolds asked, most off the edge taken off his voice after the ordeal. Corsair couldn't blame him. Watching them operate on Kaylee, when he could do practically nothing to help, was a sobering experience.

"I can't say." Simon said, putting away the last of his equipment. He actually seemed somewhat relaxed for the first time Corsair had seen him.

Inara had crossed her arms sternly, "I want to know what's going on here."

Reynolds nodded at that, "Well, then why don't we find out?" He said in a neutral voice, though the direction he started walking indicated exactly what his intentions were.

"What are-" Simon began, but it didn't take him too long to realize what Corsair had just seconds earlier. "No! No!" He followed, "stay away from that!" He shouted, before Jayne came out of nowhere and caught him in a headlock.

"Where's the fed?" The captain asked, not looking back as he strode to the box intently.

"Secured." Jayne held Simon despite his groans and struggles, "Shepard's with him. He seems to think he's not safe alone with me."

"No!" Simon pleaded, and for a moment, Corsair saw the panic in his eyes and was tempted to help. Tempted, at least. For the moment, he stood by, waiting to intervene if things got too hot.

Reynolds reached down, pulling the latch on Simon's case, turning back to the grappled man as Wash and Zoe made their way down one of the staircases. "Well, let's see what a man like you would kill for." Then, despite Simon's further protests, he opened the box.

Corsair had to crane his neck to see past the cold smoke that came out, as did everyone around, to see...the figure of a naked girl, curled up inside.

The captain looked at her, then at Simon, then at the girl again, his pace ground to a halt from the sight. "Huh."

Simon broke away from Jayne, or at least tried, the burly man seizing him by the arms. "I need to check her vitals!" he insisted, his breath deepening.

"Oh, is that what they call it?" Reynolds responded, facing Simon while not moving an inch from where he stood.

"She's not supposed to wake up for another week! The shock-"

"The shock of what?" Mal asked, "Waking up? Finding out she's been sold to some border world baron? Or I'm sorry," his tone strayed into a teasing one, gesturing back to the girl in the box, "was this one for you? Is it true love? You do seem a little-"

Before he could say any further, he was interrupted by a scream, the girl's hair flailing as she sat up, looking around frantically. Stumbling, afraid, she did exactly what her first instincts told her: leave the box.

Simon broke away, running to crouch in front of the girl, who cowered against one of the crates. She barely looked 16. "River," was the only word Corsair heard him say as he focused on her eyes, the girl whispering his name before breaking into nonsense. At least, it was nonsense to Corsair.

"What the hell is this?" Mal asked as Simon hugged the girl, apparently giving no thought of the audience in the cargo hold.

Simon slowly turned his head, still locked in the embrace, focusing his eyes on Mal, "this is my sister."


	2. Chapter Two: Serenity part 2

_The greatest merits are found within. But even these are better displayed by sumptuous dress and a sense of style._ — Laws of the Executors, Vol. 1

There was a long pause after Simon's explanation, the entire crew seeming to weigh the story in their heads. Corsair wasn't a native to their society, but he'd seen a few unbelievable things in his life, he was inclined to believe the young doctor. His sister being enticed by a secret government program that experimented on her? Corsair had heard of the exos, and he'd read about something in humanity's past known as the CIA. Somehow to put the two together wasn't too outlandish.

"That's...quite a story, son," Book admitted out loud, the first to pass his judgement, though not the last.

Mal stepped forward, "Yeah, it's a tale of woe, very stirring, but in the meantime, you've heaped a world of trouble on me and mine."

"I never thought-" Simon began.

"No, I don't imagine you thought." Mal shot back, "In consequence of which we got a kidnapped federal officer on board, we got the Alliance hard on our trail, and Kaylee..."

Zoe turned to her husband. "How much does the alliance know?"

Wash shook his head, "I can't say. I killed the message pretty quick, so they may just have our position."

"Or," Mal instisted from the center of the dining room next to Simon, "they might have personal profiles on each and every one of us. Till that fed wakes up, we won't know."

Corsair felt the need to speak up, "unlikely it would be that much. Positional data for sure." He focused on Mal, "I could have a talk with him."

Mal gave him an obviously annoyed look, "like to stick your nose in things, do you?"

Corsair stared him down from where he sat in his chair, "I don't know, something about this whole situation tells me I should be involved." In truth, he really wasn't doing this for him. Worst case scenario, he'd be fine. Everyone else was his biggest concern.

The captain hesitated long enough for Jayne to fill the air, "so what do we do?"

Mal hesitated again before responding. "The job. We finish the job. I got word from Patience, she's waiting for us. We circle round to Whitefall, make the deal, get out, keep flying." He decided, standing resolute in front of everyone. Corsair had to admit the man had presence.

Simon seemed unsatisfied, "what about us?"

Mal turned on Simon, "Kaylee comes through, you and your sister get off at Whitefall."

"If she doesn't come through?"

"Well, then you're getting off a mite sooner." Mal retorted.

Corsair almost didn't know whether to take that remark seriously or not. "Absolutely not." he said, regardless of what the captain thought about him.

"Boy made a decision." Mal turned back to the group.

"He didn't shoot her!" Inara insisted.

"No, but somebody else on this boat did," Jayne countered, "and I'm scratching my head as to why we ain't dealt with him"

"Kill a fed? Can you think of a stupider thing to do?" Zoe looked over.

Everyone began to talk over each other, until the captain got everyone's attention with a phrase. "The way it is is the way it is." He said softly, "we gotta deal with what's in front of us."

Inara stepped forward, "Mal, you know those two wouldn't survive a day in Whitefall anyway." She moved to stand right in front of them, "you throw them out, I'm leaving too."

Mal's response was too quiet for Corsair to hear, but the way he walked off after told him pretty much what he'd said. He at least had some respect for Inara. Not many would stick up for strangers like that.

Mal and Simon had moved into the far hall, and Corsair only stayed to ensure the captain wouldn't try and pull a fast one with the young man. Thankfully, it didn't go beyond that. Something told him the captain would stick to his word.

Corsair wondered exactly what to do. If he were an ordinary citizen, the obvious choice would be to keep his head down and hope it all blew over, but he wasn't. Far from it, in fact. The captain had told him not to talk to Dobson, so the only natural course of action was to talk to Dobson.

* * *

Several minutes after Jayne had left, Corsair materialized out of thin air in front of the door to Dobson's 'cell', as it was being used. He'd eavesdropped on Jayne's interrogation, less bloody than he'd expected it to be, and found circumstances getting even more interesting. He knew that he could survive all manner of interesting, but he figured less of the crew. Kaylee was already injured, and for all he knew, that could potentially not even be the worst.

With the silence only a Nightstalker could wear like a coat, he walked up to the door and opened it, carefully closing it behind him.

Dobson seemed enthused at his presence, "thank god," he breathed a sigh of relief, "cut me loose, Corsair, I promise I'll-"

"Not yet," Corsair sat down in front of him, looking him in the eye. Dobson's facade as a bumbling passenger was gone, the tense lawman underneath completely exposed. Dobson was scared, on the verge of being terrified, and his fear had given way to anger. Corsair wouldn't let him go if he wanted to, lest someone get shot...again. "Tell me why I should release you"

"Wh-what?" Dobson asked, "damn it, Corsair, I'm a federal authority, let me go!" He growled, "the girl Simon Tam is transporting, she-"

"He claims she was abducted into a government academy and experimented upon," Corsair cut him off, with a degree of cold satisfaction "you know enough that she's government property, Dobson, how much else did you know?" Corsair almost smiled at the look Dobson gave him. It was evident he hadn't known that much.

"Come on," Dobson said, "you really believe that?" He asked, at least having settled down somewhat. Maybe Corsair's outward calm rubbed off on him, maybe he'd realized there was no point to it.

"I don't know," Corsair said, narrowing his eyes at the man, "is there a reason I shouldn't?"

Dobson actually took a moment at that, then spoke, "Corsair, you fought for the alliance," he leaned forward, "this is your government, your peopl-"

"Let me guess," Corsair broke in yet again, "why would I so easily defy the alliance when I fought all five years of the war with them?"

Dobson groaned, "can you let me finish for once?" He grit his teeth at Corsair, thoroughly annoyed.

Corsair couldn't help but smirk at that, "sorry, that was rude. Was I wrong, though?" He asked, feeling like he'd been onto something. If he could at least pacify Dobson, maybe everyone would get out of this alive.

Dobson sighed, his irritation dissipating, at least outwardly, like an unpleasant smell whisked away on a warm summer breeze, "no, you were right. So why?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Corsair thought a moment, "I wasn't merely a soldier, I was spec-ops, so I was a bit more loyal than you'd think" He said, feeling a fair amount of confidence in his story, "I wish I could exactly why, but at some point I realized ideas are more deserving of loyalty than governments," He looked Dobson in the eye, practically quoting Hideo on that last line.

Dobson nodded, "spec-ops" he said, "I can believe that, by how you flipped me," he remarked bitterly.

Corsair smirked, "you know, I have a friend of mine who was a cop, like you." He mused, watching Dobson become even more curious.

"Was?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at Corsair sympathetically.

Corsair shook his head, "not dead, moved onto better things, actually." He said, although Dobson was correct in both respects. Maeve had been resurrected in a police station, in a tattered police uniform, luckier than most guardians, who knew nothing about their pasts. "She once talked about how a good amount of cops tend to be in it for the power, the superiority. She believed it was an officer's duty to question the law as much as enforce it. Even in the city by the tower, a city that had lost time and time again, there were police officers like that, in it for the power," He said, almost losing himself in his little story. What he didn't mention was that the city cracked down on such things without any hesitation.

Dobson nodded, "and so...what?" He asked, getting a bit defensive at the implication.

Corsair looked up at him from where he sat on the floor, "and so, Eva Kelly." He looked at Dobson, seeing how the name unnerved him, "you're not a very good cop, you left your Cortex handle logged in." A lie, for sure, but Dobson probably wouldn't have noticed. It only unnerved him more.

Dobson bristled, the facade of the tentative fearful fed bleeding away before his very eyes, "Corsair, that's a violation of-"

"Shut up," Corsair said coldly, bringing out the device, the report he'd discovered already on the screen, "young girl held hostage, was forced to fire, the other suspects were apprehended without further violence, both maintained their innocence until trial when they pled with similar stories," he read the notable parts, as deadpan as he could, what with how easily he played with the tied up man, "the first part sounds familiar, no?" He asked, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you had a habit of shooting young girls. Tell me, was it truly an accident? Or were you just panicked?"

To say Dobson was bristling at this point was an understatement, "you weren't there." He growled lightly.

"But you were," Corsair countered, "it was early on in your career too, so if I had to guess, I'd say it truly was an accident...an accident you went on to repeat about three more times?"

"Just stop," Dobson closed his eyes, "you don't know what it's like." He said, a hint of anger under his loosely controlled tone.

"Actually, I do, probably more than anyone on this ship," He said, "you have more than just a job, you have a responsibility to establish the law just as much as enforce it, and you failed. You failed then and you failed now." Corsair stood, looking down at Dobson judgmentally, "I sent a message to your superiors as you, that you made a mistake and Simon Tam is on a different ship. If my dear friend Maeve were here, things would go quite differently. She's not, but I am, and depending how things go, you might just live through them, but understand this, Lawrence. I detest who you are now, regardless of your fate." He said with finality, and left the room without another word.

"What are you doing?" came an apprehensive voice, and Corsair winced at the likeness to Ikora Rey's.

He looked to his right as he closed the door to Dobson's room, suppressing his nerves with the knowledge that this was not the guardian who could vaporize him with a thought, "just having a chat with our guest," he said simply. He didn't want to walk around like he owned the place, but he was likely the best person to do so.

Zoe stared him down a moment. Her hand wasn't on her gun yet, but Corsair could tell she was sizing him up as a soldier would. "Might I ask what you were chatting about?" She asked carefully.

Corsair took the hint, holding his hands up in a gesture of truce, "if you must know, I asked him to give me a reason to free him. He failed to provide one." Corsair looked her right in the eyes, not wanting to provoke the captain's second. Sure, she was loyal to him, but that loyalty worked both ways, from what Corsair had seen.

Zoe gave him a long stare, "I don't want to see you talking to the fed again. Got it?" she intensified her glare. Thankfully, her face didn't have the same bite as her voice did. To Corsair, her voice was Ikora's, a guardian whose disapproval was hard to get, but terrifying to be on the receiving end of. Her face, however, while stern, didn't carry the same weight in your spine dragging you down.

Corsair nodded, her last word known only by inference, "crystal." He shook his head, "I have nothing more to say to him anyway."

Thankfully, his words had some effect. Zoe turned, walking a little farther down the hall, obviously keeping an eye on Simon and Dobson.

The man in question poked his head out of his cabin, "did I hear that right?" He asked, "you asked him why you should free him?" He said, his voice dripping with apprehension, as usual. At least now, however, Corsair knew the true reason why. He cared about his sister, enough to defy his family and break into a top secret government facility and live forever more as a fugitive. His respect for the young man had grown considerably in the last several hours. The same could not be said for Dobson.

Corsair nodded, "I did, as I told Zoe," he nodded in her general direction, "he didn't give a good reason." He explained, not seeing a point in hiding any of it, so long as he made it clear where he stood.

Simon gave him a cautious look, "and if he had?" He asked, keeping his hands near his sides.

Corsair shrugged, "if he had, that would mean you were a fraud, are you?"

"No."

"Then nothing to worry about. The truth always comes out, Simon." Corsair set a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, the man taking several seconds to untense himself, "You have my word, Simon, I swear I'll keep you and your sister safe," He said, letting go of Simon's shoulder, "and failing that, pull out the still beating heart of anyone who succeeds."

Simon blinked, obviously taken aback by the gesture, "I, uh..." He stammered out hesitantly, "ah, thank you."

Corsair smiled, "only one condition. After this, you tell me everything about this academy. Everything. Deal?" He asked, receiving an immediate nod.

"I'll tell you all I can, but-" Simon began, but was cut off by the intercom.

"_This is the captain. We're passing another ship. Looks to be reavers._" Captain Reynolds' voice came through the ship's hallways, "_From the size, probably a raiding party. Could be they're headed somewhere particular, could be they already hit someone and they're full up, so everyone stay calm. We try to run, they'll have to chase us. it's their way. We're holding course. We should be passing them in a minute, so we'll see what they do._" there was a pause, "_Zoe, you come on up to the bridge"_

Zoe started to move to the stairs, but Simon took a step towards her, "uh, I don't understand."

"You've never heard of reavers?" Zoe asked, turning back halfway up the stairs.

"Uh," Simon shook his head, "Campfire stories, men gone savage on the edge of space, killing-"

"They're not stories." Zoe replied almost immediately, worry showing at the edges of her expression.

"And if they board us?" Corsair asked, starting to get rather wary.

Zoe looked grim, "If they take the ship, they'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sew our skins into their clothing." She said steadily, "And if we're very, very lucky, they'll do it in that order." With that, she turned and went up the stairs at a rushed pace.

Simon took a moment, looking to Corsair with a grim expression, before moving towards the medbay.

While Simon went to the medbay to be with River, joining Kaylee and Book, Corsair slipped back into his room. "Gale," he said, the ghost in question appearing as always, "any chance we have a weapon that could do some damage to another ship?" He asked, starting to think of options in case these reavers boarded. If they did, he'd have no choice but to reveal himself. Sure, he could survive, especially if they were akin to a horde of hive thrall. He'd reveal his light, rally the crew, but the odds were great someone would die. Maybe Kaylee, maybe Wash, maybe even captain Reynolds. Corsair couldn't let that happen if he could help it.

"We have an old Suros rocket launcher," Gale replied, twirling anxiously, "but the yield isn't high enough to impact more than a standard fighter. From what _Serenity_'s sensors tell me, the ship is at least three times as big as this one."

Corsair narrowed his eyes, "this is space, though. The right damage in the right place could do the job," he thought out loud.

"Depends on the ship," Gale retorted, "but you only have two rockets for it, and I know you forgot to pick up a heavy ammo synth before we left." As he spoke, the rocket launcher in question appeared on the bed.

"Yeah, but-" Corsair began, then stopped, a realization smacking him in the face, "we do, actually. The _Visible Hand_." He burst into a grin, "except the rockets are too big for the Suros. Could you mod the launcher?"

Gale thought for a moment, scanning the launcher, "it would destroy it in the process," He determined, before turning back to Corsair.

Corsair shrugged, "eh, when's the last time I used it?" He asked, "do it. If it plays out like the captain said, we won't have to." With that, he left his room, the rocket launcher vanishing behind him.

Once in the cargo bay, he threw the tarp off the intact side, crouching down to unlock the missile tube for the Cobra-grade rockets the _Visible Hand_ carried. With some silent prompting from Gale, it slid forward to poke out, Corsair finding the catch for the explosive payload within. One of the original rockets, with some modification, could take the payload, which Corsair had used in action. A Ketch had once strayed too close to a small community that had once been Des Moines, Iowa. They'd asked for help, and fireteam Shadow had responded with a dozen of the same kind Corsair now held in his hand. The Ketch had survived, damaged, but the message had been sent. Corsair figured the ship the reavers were flying, on top of being half the size of a Ketch, was not made to withstand a hit from even one Cobra.

The payload vanished from Corsair's hands, "okay." Gale said, "rocket launcher modded, only one shot," the rocket launcher appeared in Corsair's arms, Corsair standing as his helmet appeared on his head, walking to the control panel of the door...

Then captain Reynolds' voice came on the intercom again, declaring that the reavers had apparently continued on.

"...huh." Corsair lowered the rocket launcher, "guess we're not blowing up a bunch of reavers." He tapped the side of his helmet twice, the standard gesture among guardians for their ghosts to vanish their helmets off their heads.

"Well," Gale said, floating under the _Visible Hand_ to seal the missile tube, "at least we have the rocket."

Corsair laid the rocket launcher, a bit bigger now with Gale's modifications. It was actually quite impressive to behold. "Yeah, it is a nice rocket launcher," he smiled, deliberately forcing the whole 'only one missile' fact out of his head for now. He was starting to like rocket launchers. He'd typically preferred light machine guns, but the rockets had their uses. This one had only been to test for the gunsmith.

A throat cleared above him, and Corsair looked up to see Reynolds looking down at him from the lower catwalk. "Corsair." He said, a hint of apprehension in his voice, "might I ask where you got..." he gestured to the Suros, "that?"

Corsair looked at the rocket launcher, taking that moment to regain his composure, "it was in my ship," he looked back at Reynolds, "I hardly travel unarmed. I figured that, plus a few last minute mods, and that reaver ship out there..." He trailed off, letting the captain infer his goal.

He nodded, "I suppose I can't blame you for sneaking into the hold to blow up reavers." He made his way down the stairs to come to Corsair, taking a closer look at the rocket launcher, a chinese curse escaping his lips. Gale, luckily being under the wing, had vanished. "I ain't ever seen anything like this anywhere."

Corsair considered declaring it a New Monarchy prototype, but realized it wouldn't quite work, "Suros brand, fresh on the market, you know what they say, the future is now." He shrugged, "might not have taken them down, but definitely would've given them something to think about."

The captain gave him a look, tension in his shoulders as he sized him up, "being alliance, I expect you know how to use it." He remarked derisively, and Corsair felt the subdued venom below his tone. Before he could retort, the captain continued with a hint of smugness, "well, best put it back. Cargo bay's off limits to civilians, remember?"

Corsair waited a long moment, choosing his words carefully before responding, "you're worried I'll find your clandestine cargo, whatever it is." He looked Reynolds in the eye, then around the bay, "let me guess...there are probably a dozen places in here, at least. I could find it, maybe, within ten minutes, but I won't." He looked back to the man in front of him, then to the _Visible Hand_, "this ship isn't exactly legal, you know. A few political pushes, here and there, but not yet."

Reynolds adopted a hardened look, "so," He said after a beat, crossing his arms "I don't push you, you don't push us?"

Corsair nodded, "that's right," he said, leaning back against the _Visible Hand_, "this your typical adventure, captain?"

He watched a moment before letting out a sigh, "Life is life out here in the verse, all there is to it." Mal remarked dismissively.

Corsair raised an eyebrow, "so people get shot every day, then?"

Mal was silent for a while, "no," he said finally, "they don't."

Both of them were silent for a few moments, before Corsair decided to break it, "Captain Reynolds?" He said, looking over at the man sympathetically, "you'll get your payment from New Monarchy, but you saved my life, and for a person like me? That's rarer than you know." He almost shuddered at the idea of dying over and over in the vacuum of space. He'd have done almost anything to escape that, and thankfully, he'd gotten lucky.

Reynolds perked up, obviously interested in where Corsair was going with this, "what? A fancy alliance type like yourself?" He smirked to himself, enjoying it.

Corsair ignored it, offering his hand to Reynolds, "until this whole thing is over, whatever you need, I'm there." He turned to face Mal completely, "I know I'm alliance, but I also know you may need the help, all you need is ask, and you'll have it. You have my word."

The captain looked taken aback, as Simon had when Corsair had sworn to protect him and his sister. Were such offers of help really nonexistent in this society? He desperately hoped Mal and Simon were exceptions, but he wasn't holding his breath.

"Haven't been doing much asking," Mal crossed his arms again, "you push yourself in here, demanding we do what you ask-"

"I demand you do the right thing." Corsair insisted.

Mal took a step closer, "right thing ain't always work out." He smirked, "you're just as rich as that doctor is, aren't you? Never really lived out here, on the edge, have you?" He asked, his tone growing more tense with every word. It was then that Corsair realized this was the point where one of his crew members would try to talk him down. Unfortunately, none were present.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Corsair said, apparently in a darker tone, as Mal took a step back, "what if I paid you to do the right thing? What if crime didn't have to pay?" He asked, the words slipping into his head.

Mal took a chuckle at that, "you must be one rich _hwen dan_" he shook his head, focusing back on Corsair, "'verse ain't like that."

"But what if it could be?" Corsair retorted, standing his ground, "I know I sound crazy, captain, but I'm willing to do what I can to make this...'verse a better place. You have to see that, too, beneath the cynicism. I plan to change it, with the help of New Monarchy." He kept eye contact with the man. He could always reveal the immense power at his disposal, but he had no idea how he would even begin. "In the meantime, I'll change what I can here, on this ship. Will you let me?"

Mal stared Corsair down with an expression he couldn't gauge. There was a tense, silent moment, before he turned and walked away, towards the infirmary. "Cargo bay's off limits to civilians." He called back, and then was gone.

Corsair didn't even realize Gale had appeared over his shoulder. "Well, that wasn't a no."

Corsair nodded, then looked at Gale, "we're going to have to find a more subtle way of talking." He said, making a head gesture that Gale understood, vanishing from sight again.

As he walked over to his quarters again, ignoring Mal's private conversation with Kaylee in the medical bay, Corsair thought about Cayde. Cayde acted like a jokester, someone who didn't take anything seriously, but anyone who'd been in combat, either by his side or guided by him in the field, knew otherwise if they read between the lines. The hunters of the city all knew the stories of Cayde-6, Andal Brask, and Taniks the Scarred. Cayde was an honorable man, and while he might not always do what was right, he did what was best.

Corsair couldn't help but see his likeness in Mal, far deeper than the voice. If he didn't know any better, he'd guess they were long removed brothers, or that he had travelled in time, but they were remarkably similar. Maybe that's why he inherently respected Mal so much, despite barely knowing him at all.

Then Simon ran into the medbay, under the complete impression Kaylee had died, and Corsair realized he had absolutely no idea what to make of the uncanny resemblance of Malcolm Reynolds and Cayde-6. None whatsoever.

* * *

Corsair stepped out onto the dusty soil of Whitefall, the heat of the beating sun a nice change from the ambient coldness of space and _Serenity_. It was a nice place, not only in it's similarity to a few places on Earth Corsair had visited, but it was reassuring, at least, to know that while humanity had been nearly driven to extinction back on Earth, it flourished here. Part of him was envious of their relative peace, but neither they nor Earth had even known of each other's existence. If they had, history would definitely have played out differently.

"Mr. Corsair," came the voice of a somewhat more chipper captain Reynolds, "you standin' guard out here?"

He let out a breath at the light teasing, then shook his head, "I just realized something," He said, watching Jayne drive the mule off into the distance, "this is my first time I've gone to a new planet without having a reason to be there."

Zoe, who'd been laconically loitering next to Mal, seemed curious, "never travel outside the military, Corsair?" She asked, a hint of amusement in her voice as she did.

He shook his head, "Family wasn't big on tourism," he said, deciding to let a bit of his constructed backstory come out, "dad was always big on local politics, but I felt inclined towards the military." He said, earnestly.

Mal raised an eyebrow, "your dad take up issue with that?"

Corsair hesitated, then caught the intrigued looks on their faces and got an idea for his story, "at first, but a couple years into the war, he accepted it and..." he bit his lip softly, "I found out he'd had cancer." He lied, his discomfort about the lying actually aiding in the lie. He'd realized earlier that, to properly ingratiate himself into their society, his story had to have a beginning, and that mandated that he could have no living relatives. Birth records were easy to falsify, as were records that might've been destroyed during the war. Gale was doing some work based off of Dobson's coretex handle, but until they got to civilization, he was still a ghost.

Mal and Zoe looked grim, the former nodding in recognition, "my kindest sympathies," he said, then proceeded to blunder past the subject, "make sure Simon don't start trouble." He said, turning to make his way down the ramp.

Zoe gave him an empathetic look, and Corsair returned it. No matter where they were from, the three of them were soldiers, and death was both an easy and a difficult topic for them. He wouldn't have needed more than he was given from them if his story were true.

As the two of them walked off, to be later rejoined by Jayne, Corsair smiled, pleased with himself. "So," he glanced back into the cargo hold to make sure no one was in earshot, "think you can add that to the cover story?" He asked, Gale popping into existence right in front of him. Pausing to consider the privacy of the area, he walked forward a short distance, enough that anyone walking up behind him would be heard walking down the ramp.

"You realize I have to change everything I had based on that, right?" He said, and Corsair couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, you like challenges on occasion." He teased his ghost lightly.

"Well, we might have to hack a few high profile targets, but it's doable."

Corsair narrowed his eyes, "am I going to have to hold off waves of strapping alliance soldiers while you do?"

"Very funny," Gale said, "their tech is very low level compared to ours. I should be able to do so flawlessly. The only trick will be getting to said places. Shouldn't be too hard, you can go invisible."

Corsair nodded, then sat down, "these people really don't know what they have." He said, mostly to himself.

"Yeah...you really think they can help us?" Gale asked, floating down next to Corsair's face. "We do have some pretty nasty enemies back home."

Corsair looked at Gale, his closest friend before his fireteam, then out onto the horizon of Whitefall. This wasn't just a random planet they'd found, this was one that had been terraformed. Humanity had done this. "Is that even a question?"

After a long moment of watching the scenery, Corsair made his way back to his quarters. Stepping out of the hangar bay and into the common area, he stopped at the sight of Book on the ground. He froze, eyes darting over the place, then saw Dobson emerge from the storage room. The two locked eyes, and Corsair tapped his pointer finger and thumb together, a mostly universal gesture for guardians to summon their weapons in their hands. Middle finger was an energy weapon, ring finger was heavy, or however else the guardian in question would assign it to their ghost. Despite it being faster than any skilled gunslinger could draw, Dobson already had his gun out, and shot first. Corsair's head felt all tingly, and at the last second before losing consciousness, he realized it was because he was dead.

He let out a gasp as he felt sensation again, sitting up just as quickly. He heard Dobson's voice nearby, evidently still there. Gale floated over him, "and now, there's blood all over the floor, try not to get shot again."

Corsair stood, summoning his scathelocke auto rifle, then shook his head, moving to check Book's pulse, thankfully stable. An auto rifle wasn't a good weapon for this situation. Serenity was too cramped, not open enough. The Awoken of the reef used smaller, more manageable weapons, like knives, sidearms, or...

It was then that Corsair caught sight of something familiar in the slightly ajar door of his quarters. Thorn sat on his bed, in the exact place Gale had dismantled it earlier. If he had time and Dobson was still restrained, he'd make him do it again, but...

"Alright." He picked up the fabled weapon of sorrow, "just once," he whispered to himself, feeling it slip easily into his grip, the metal cold underneath his skin. It had killed dozens of guardians, and plenty of mortals, and here it felt almost natural to hold. The implications were sickening, but Corsair pushed past it.

He shook his head, "once, and you're going out the airlock." He said to the Thorn. If he'd expected a reply, he was certainly disappointed.

He ran out of his room, quickly poking his head in the infirmary. Kaylee had pointed him out to the cargo bay, insisting that she was fine, where Dobson had taken River.

The bay's inner doors had opened, and Dobson's gun was on River. Unless he did this carefully, this would end bloody. Hidden behind a crate, he raised Thorn, but decided taking the shot wasn't worth the risk. He decided on something most hunters would consider to be stupid, but most would do anyway. He stowed Thorn and stepped out, raising his hands, but stopped as he saw Simon on the catwalk, one leg over the railing. Making eye contact, he shook his head and pointed to River, and Simon nodded like he understood.

Corsair made his way out into the open middle of the cargo bay and cleared his throat, "going somewhere?" He asked gently, not wanting to scare him...too much.

Dobson spun around, holding River in his arm, which was strangely still, despite his previous tightly wound fear. Evidently he'd let go of it. His eyes widened in shock, "wha-" he gaped, "that's impossible! I killed you!" He almost shouted at the end, River whimpering at his outbursts.

Corsair shook his head, "if I said I was a manifestation of your conscience, would you believe me?" He asked, then took a single step forward, no further. "Let River go."

He shook his head, the grip on his gun shaking slightly, "you think you can just say whatever you want about me? That I'm a horrible excuse for a human being?" He said, his grip white on his pistol.

"Am I the first to say it?" He replied, lowering his hands slowly, "is that truly the man you are, Dobson?"

Dobson shook his head, "no," he whispered, "you think you know me, Corsair?" He looked back up, hissing, "you think you can look at my case files and know who I am?"

"You tell me," Corsair replied, not missing a beat, keeping his eyes on Dobson, "prove me wrong, let River go, walk away." He widened his stance a bit, prepared to rapidly draw Thorn from behind his back if need be.

"_Reavers!" _Wash said suddenly over the intercom, "_Reavers, incoming and heading straight for us!"_ Corsair paused at the announcement. He might just have to reveal himself after all.

Dobson closed his eyes, taking a breath, Corsair taking the time to give a split second to give Simon a reassuring glance above. Dobson shook his head again, more for his own benefit than any particular communication. "And if I don't? You gonna kill a lawman in cold blood?" He asked, eyes pleading for some semblance of certainty in the next few minutes.  
Corsair heard movement behind him, but forced himself to keep his eyes on Dobson, "will I have to?" He nearly whispered, narrowing his eyes slightly as he reached his hand to Thorn's handle. "You have my word, Dobson," He held up his other hand in a gesture of calm, "if you lower that gun, let River go, and walk down that ramp, I won't kill you, I swear it."

Dobson shook his head once more, "are you going to kill me anyway?" He asked, making Corsair even more bewildered at the fact betrayal was commonplace here.

The worst part was Corsair truly wasn't sure. If he killed him, he truly would be a murderer, and doomed Dobson's chance to turn himself around. If he allowed Dobson that chance, the odds were good Dobson would report them, hunt them down, sabotage Corsair's plans for mass societal reform. Cayde would've pulled the trigger, Zavala would've let him go, Ikora...he wasn't quite sure what Ikora would do.

He sighed, closing his eyes for the quickest of moments, then shook his head, "no," He looked Dobson straight on, "that's not the man I am, Lawrence. See, if I have to do anything, it'll be one bullet to the head, quick and clean. Trust me, it's better than what Maeve would give you," He said, tightening his grip on Thorn.

Dobson gave him a look of reluctant curiosity, "and what would she do?" He asked slowly.

Corsair's voice became cold, "she wouldn't even give you this conversation," He said, imagining his friend incinerating Dobson with praxic fire. Frankly, that was the least vicious thing he could think up, though the most likely. Dobson was a killer, he'd lied, he'd ruined lives. Maeve would kill him. Why couldn't he? He'd hurt Kaylee. He deserved to die.

Corsair stopped, wondering where exactly that line of thought had come from. Dobson opened his mouth in the meantime, then closed it again, thinking before he noticed Corsair's hand on Thorn. He took a breath, looking down and then up again, "I..." He began, then there was a sound that cut him off, the lowering of the ramp.

And for a split second, Dobson faltered and looked back.

Corsair lunged forward, grabbing River with his free hand while shoving his shoulder into Dobson, twirling as he brought Thorn around, pointing it at Dobson who'd raised his own gun at the last second. The two men stared with fury in their eyes, guns pointed unwaveringly.

Dobson's knuckles were white around the hilt of his gun, eyes locked on his adversary, "so that's it? You just going to shoot me?"

Corsair paused, "you've had several opportunities to lower that gun." He observed, "now or never." He felt his finger twitch slightly as if the gun itself wanted to devour the life from Dobson's soul, but Corsair forced himself to control his hand.

_Do it_, it seemed to urge, _kill him_.

Dobson took a moment, then another...then lowered his gun and dropped it to the floor, a defeated yet scornful look in his eyes.

Corsair, meanwhile, kept the rage in his, "turn around and walk." He said, holding Thorn level as Dobson reluctantly complied. Mal, Jayne, and Zoe ran up the ramp past him, all three shocked at the sight. As he got to the bottom of the ramp, Dobson turned back to him.

Mal put a hand on his shoulder, "Corsair, got places to be and all."

Corsair nodded silently, not moving his head, "you come after River and Simon again, I'll find you," he addressed Dobson, "and I'll pull the trigger." With that, he hit the button to close the doors, and the ship took off without a moment's hesitation.

Jayne gave Corsair a light punch on the shoulder, as well as some chinese, "couldn't you have just shot him in the leg?" He grunted, racing up the stairs with Mal and Zoe.

Corsair followed, shaking his head, "cursed hand cannon, remember? Even a graze will kill." He said, keeping pace with the others all the way to the bridge.

Jayne grumbled again, "Gorram it, you can show the reavers when they board us!"

Wash piloted the ship with serene expertise, an impressive feat considering the reaver ship on their heels. After several moments, he spoke, calmly, "I need Kaylee in the engine room."

"Can she even-"

"Get her in there now!" Mal ordered, then turned to Corsair, "Suros?"

Corsair couldn't help but grin, "Suros." He replied, then ran down the hallway, past Inara, and to the _Visible Hand_, in the cargo bay. Certain no one could see or hear him, he spoke aloud, "Gale, the rocket launcher," then felt it materialize in his arms. He then ran back to the medbay, finding Jayne, Book, Inara, and Kaylee, each one's eyes widening at the massive rocket launcher in his arms. "Hello, all," he smiled as if it were a normal day (and truthfully, were he on Earth with his fellow guardians, it would be), "is there an airlock I can fire this out of?"

To his surprise, Inara was the first to answer. He ran up the stairs, through the mess hall, to the right, and up the ladder, opening the hatch to the outside, the wind gusting past and nearly sucking Corsair out. It was only because his foot had been wedged in one of the ladder rungs that he didn't, and he could feel something break in it while he did. Another gesture and his helmet materialized, granting him the ability to communicate and, more importantly, breathe. "Gale," He climbed up, poking his head out of the gap, "magnetize my boots." With that, he slammed his feet against the walls, sticking intently as he levelled the Suros over the edge. The reaver ship was gaining fast, and Serenity was drifting to avoid the magnetic grapple. Corsair held the Suros tightly, but he knew he'd miss. Plenty of target practice with Zinara had shown him that.

* * *

The shot rang through the mothyards, echoing off the rusted airplanes. Corsair gritted his teeth as the bullet missed the bullet by mere inches. "Damn!" He grunted, lifting his head from the scope to view the entire makeshift range that had been set up.

Zinara shook her head, her dark purple hair brushing lightly out of her eyes. "You're tense," she observed, watching the scene with no small amount of enjoyment. "I'd say that's your sole problem, but..." she shrugged as she watched Corsair stand.

Corsair sighed, handing the rifle back to her, "yeah, yeah, you promised you wouldn't say anything."

She scoffed, "I promised I wouldn't tell the rest of the tower what a lousy shot you were," Zinara countered, not missing a beat as she hefted the rifle, "I did _not_ say I wouldn't judge you for it." She pulled the trigger three times, three of the lined up bottles shattering into pieces in quick succession.

Corsair watched the scene with youthful envy. It had only been a year and a half following the black garden. They'd been the toast of the city, having somehow tracked down the most oppressive source of Darkness in the system since the collapse after only 7 months of being risen. Since then, they'd explored a few corners of the solar system, fought a few higher ranking bad guys, amassed a small fortune of glimmer and weapons, and still throughout all that, Corsair had the worst luck at long range.

"I don't know what's worse. Being a hunter who's a lousy shot, or being upstaged by the best damn sniper in the tower, who's a _titan_." He crossed his arms, Zinara reloading the rifle as he spoke, not even looking as she loaded another clip. Sighing again, he turned fully towards her, "So, what am I doing wrong?"

"Lots of things," she replied, handing the rifle back, "you don't seem prepared for the recoil, you lean in too close with your body and..." She paused, as if phrasing her next words in her head before speaking, "you always jerk it a bit, as if you feel your target's about to move."

"So...in short, I'm terrible."

Zinara shook her head, "oh, don't be depreciative."

"I wish I was, then I'd eventually succeed and be pleasantly surprised." Corsair mused, and Zinara rolled her eyes in response. "Alright, what should I do?"

"Get on one knee, raise the gun."

Corsair acquiesced, raising the gun as told, "can I not get on my stomach like before?"

She took a moment before responding, "you could, but I don't want you to."

It was Corsair's turn to roll his eyes, lining up the scope on one of the bottles. He took a breath, easing himself before he opened his eyes. Finally, he pulled the trigger with all the serenity he could muster.

Zinara narrowed her eyes, watching where he hit. "okay, I admit it," she said after a moment, "you really are terrible."

Corsair planted the butt of the rifle in the dirt, using it to stand, and then handed it back to her for the last time, "alright, I give up." He took a breath, looking at the last bottle on a rusted bucket. "Still, thanks, Z."

Zinara's response was to simply fire the rifle at the bucket. The bottle was catapulted wildly into the air, and shattered with her second shot. "Well, you could always stick to hand cannons, auto rifles, shotguns..."

"Or a sword." Corsair mused, catching a bit of movement on the horizon that didn't seem like anything, "That, or wait for an exotic shotgun where the bullets track your damn targets."

Zinara threw her head back, "ha! That'll be the day."

* * *

His thoughts ran quickly as thoughts did, mid-combat. He would miss. That was always why he'd stuck to close quarters weapons and combat. The question is how could he not? He watched the reaver ship sway, uncertain where to aim? The cockpit? The engine? The grappler?

Suddenly, it hit him like a forklift. "Gale, connect me to Wash." He said, "Wash!" He called out, following the reaver ship in the air with the barrel of the launcher, "Stop drifting, keep us straight."

"_Uh,"_ came the adept pilot's reply, "_by chance have you looked out a window recently, Corsair?"_

Beneath his helmet, he smiled, "I'm looking out an airlock, that count?" He teased, "trust me, Wash, I'm about to give them a warm welcome."

Slowly, Serenity straightened it's path, the reaver ship capitalizing on that fact as Corsair could see the magnetic grappler priming to pull in it's lighter, nimbler prey, and then it fired, the magnetic field enveloping the ship instantly.

But Corsair was ready, and magnets didn't discriminate. He pulled the trigger, and the cobra missile fired, the modified Suros shattering in his arms. Quite a few pieces dug into him, and he felt himself fall backwards as the launcher blew him down. The shock he registered for a split second was a combination of the force of the explosion crushing his ribcage and his spine shattered by his impact with the floor. With that, he was dead for the third time that day.

He woke immediately after, at least to him. Shrapnel was everywhere, a good amount embedded into his armor, but most of it scattered on the floor. "Gale," he breathed, almost feeling his shattered ribs that were already healed. You could always feel almost an echo of your most recent death for a split second after you resurrected, which threw Corsair off every once in a while. "The reaver ship?"

"Gone, it seems." Gale replied inside his helmet, "Serenity broke atmo, as they say it, within seconds. Rather impressive, really. We're headed to the nearest neutral station to refuel. We can upload your cover identity there."

Corsair tapped his helmet twice to make it vanish, breathing the fresher air of the ship, "Traveler's light, it's been one hell of a day." He said, staying on the ground for the moment. He hadn't died a death that violent in quite a while.

"Yer gorram right," Jayne's voice came from the hall, the man looking over him in surprise, "Cap'n said you made that big explosion."

Corsair nodded, raising a hand in a silent request, which Jayne thankfully understood without further prompting. He groaned as the bigger man helped him up, "is that every day around here?"

Jayne shrugged, "not them reavers, but just about," he looked around the alcove, "where's that big rocket launcher you had?" He said with a grin that might've scared Simon, but Corsair had seen scarier. Jayne didn't even crack the top hundred...thousand.

He shook his head, "blown to pieces. Rocket was a higher yield than the launcher was used to." He said, picking a piece out of his armor and looking it over.

Jayne frowned, "huh, gorram shame." He said, a bit dejected, "woulda liked to try it out. You alright?" He asked, actually surprising Corsair with his concern.

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He grinned, "trust me, Jayne, I've been through worse." It was the truth. Jayne didn't even know the half of it.

* * *

At long last, Corsair was back on solid ground again, with this new society at his and Gale's fingertips. New Monarchy had received some contract offers, some easily fulfilled with a transfer of funds, and even started to gain a bit of reputation. Most importantly, Corsair's fabricated identity was in place, with a few revisions. He was a soldier from a not very prominent family, the greater part of his military history being redacted. He figured anyone who did research who would matter would realize that as their cue to look elsewhere, and it excused him from having to have too many military references. As for family, they died during the war, along with convenient destruction of records. With that, Alexander 'Corsair' Pryce had appeared, ready to spread good deeds throughout the 'verse, as they called it.

Boros was naturally a place of opportunity, if you had the credits, which Corsair did, courtesy of Gale. He'd bought himself a new set of clothes, and a duffel bag to make it look like he wasn't just pulling things out of thin air. At Gale's suggestion, he'd also bought a earphone communicator, which Gale promptly disassembled and transmatted just under the skin inside his ear. The comm was solely Gale's, and would allow him to be fed information anywhere without needing his helmet on. Finally, he'd hired some help to take the _Visible Hand_ to a secure warehouse he'd rented. He'd taken the warp drive with him, however, and removed a few more important components to prevent someone just taking anything. To top it off, he'd rigged it to blow if it was moved.

He'd even acquired a small arsenal of common weapons which he'd liberated from a small street gang. While he did have his scathelocke and a few other weapons which were capable of killing gods and demonic hordes, he doubted there were any of those here. In most occasions, he probably wouldn't even need more than his pilfered hand cannon.

The final place he'd found himself was the lowered ramp of Serenity, scheduled to leave within the hour to its next destination.

"Gotta say," Mal walked down the ramp to greet him, "I half expected never to see you again."

Corsair couldn't help but chuckle at the captain's remark. He'd doffed his armor for a casual suit, his duffel bag at his side, and a simple black briefcase. "I do my best to keep my word. I promised a reward for my return to solid ground," He kept eye contact as he let his duffel bag drop a foot to the ground.

"That a fact?" Mal eyed his bag, "there a...fancy new engine in there?"

He shook his head, "unfortunately, no." He admitted, "that engine was one of a kind, you probably wouldn't see it for a couple years, maybe even decades. In lieu of that..." Corsair couldn't help but smile, "I did tell my superiors everything about the last day or so."

Mal's eyes narrowed, posture stiffening, "and by everything, you mean...?"

"I mean everything." Corsair confirmed. "Your illicit smuggling, your illicit passengers, your illicit defiance of a law man..." He held up a hand in a peaceful gesture, "don't worry, they're actually impressed."

Mal looked at him, thrown off by the exchange, "impressed? What about?" He asked, his tone serious.

"That you did the right thing, at least where your...guests are concerned. And that's what New Monarchy's about. They also notice you're scraping off work, and so they're offering that." Corsair said. Gale had mentioned it to him, but he'd already decided to do it. They deserved it. "Nothing too horrible, transportation of goods, reliable and...sometimes covert." He explained. The alliance customs disallowed the transport of several essential items, at least not without heavy taxation. Chinese nesting dolls were the most surprising of the list he'd very briefly perused.

Mal listened while he talked, perking up at the business opportunity practically being thrown at him, "I think we can make that work, Corsair." He offered his hand with a gentle smile, but Corsair didn't take it yet.

"Of course, there's also other errands we might offer you. Perhaps dealing with bandits or pirates here and there, anything to help people, and of course, the transportation of a certain VIP."

"A what?"

Corsair forgot that some sayings hadn't made their way out here. Those that did probably stayed in a higher social class than that of the captain. "A very important person, namely," he gestured to his duffel bag, "me."

Mal crossed his arms, his posture a bit more relaxed now, "so, a chauffeur?"

"I wouldn't try and get in your way, don't worry," Corsair smirked, holding out the briefcase, "and for all the times I do...six months rent, in advance, and some extra to cover the airlock repairs."

Mal's jaw honestly dropped for a moment before he regained his composure. Evidently he didn't doubt Corsair's word as he barely regarded the briefcase in his hands. Corsair wondered if he would even count it that much past the point to check how much exactly was there. He truly didn't know what the rent would be, so he'd just guessed.

"Corsair," Mal looked up at the man with a newfound sense of appreciation in his eyes, "I believe we're becoming best friends."

Serenity took off shortly after, and Corsair had settled into his bunk. He was wondering when Thorn was going to show up again. Who knew? Maybe after being shoved into a blast furnace he'd found, it finally would get the hint. His duffel bag was tucked under his bed, his interests were good for the moment. There was only one thing left for him to do for now.

Simon opened the door to his cabin, "ah, Corsair," He said, tense as ever. "I'm curious, why not have people call you Alexander?"

Corsair shrugged. Once the captain had found out that was his cover identity's name, he had absolutely not kept it a secret. Not that Corsair wanted it secret, but he really preferred Corsair. Thankfully, the crew were perfectly fine calling him that. In truth, it meant pirate, privateer, but originally he'd just been drawn to the name for no particular reason. The unspoken rule in the tower was that you could only pick your name once. It wasn't official by any means, but it made all the new guardians actually think about their choice. "We have an hour before dinner, I was hoping we could talk."

Simon looked at him in momentary confusion, "about what?"

Corsair looked him square in the eyes, "you know." He said, Simon's face reflecting his realization.

The young doctor let him in, closing the door definitively before turning back to Corsair, "the man who contacted me went by Mathias." He began, "we met at Hydale park on Osiris..."


	3. Chapter Three: The Train Job

"_In seeking a true leader, the Executor must test the heart of each candidate, sifting through the weak, foolish, and evil for the good." _— Laws of the Executors, Vol 13

The last city was most beautiful in the autumn, Corsair felt. The air was crisper as the heat of summer slowly dwindled away, and one could spend all their day in the sun without sweating through their armor. This particular autumn was different, however. After the past few years of relative peace, farming and harvests had been uninterrupted, and the people began to live a little bit more well fed, and a small number of new Guardians had arrived. Everything, all around, was just a bit safer.

Corsair had just finished having lunch with a few of his friends and was walking down a street leading to the north part of the tower, on his way to the hangar, where he had an engagement for New Monarchy. After that, he'd go out for a routine patrol of the Cosmodrome, and perhaps camp out there if it took long enough. All in all, the start of a nice day.

A voice stopped him in his tracks, "Corsair," it whispered hoarsely.

He froze. The being in question had never used names before. All he had ever talked about was those who lived beyond the Jovians and how his will wasn't his own. "Xûr," Corsair said, glancing around at the morning street, "what brings you here?" The midday crowd hadn't gathered yet, no one else had heard. The meager number of people there were too engrossed in their own business to pay any attention.

The being in question was shrouded under an awning, beckoning Corsair closer. "The nine have sent me here."

Corsair narrowed his eyes, his hands finding his hips, "wait...on a Wednesday?"

"I have no concept of days." He said, impassively.

Corsair sighed, it was unusual to see Xûr on any day but the weekend, for some reason. That, and being addressed by name, meant his instincts should've told him to keep walking. "Why are you here, Xûr?"

"The Nine have a gift for you." That got Corsair eager to leave. Xûr always came to trade, and only to trade. One guardian had attempted to gift him coins as a token of appreciation, and the being refused. Charity wasn't in his nature, whichever direction it went.

"A gift?" Corsair asked, slowly, "what gift?" He couldn't help but step closer. He'd killed Crota, invaded the black garden. Whatever Xûr had for him, he was confident he could deal with it.

In response, Xûr reached into the folds of his robes, which seemed to have no light pass through them to illuminate what was under them, and into Corsair's outstretched hand he placed Thorn, weapon of sorrow.

To say Corsair reacted quietly was a lie. The noise he'd made was high pitched, and lucky for him the tower north markets were still not that busy. Corsair quickly thrusted the gun back at the black figure. "No," he said, hurriedly, "I refuse, take it back." He insisted. He was a hunter, first and foremost, and every hunter knew the story of Dredgen Yor and Shin Malphur. At least, everyone had their own story, but they were all mostly the same. Dredgen Yor, the murderous Hunter, and Shin Malphur, the hero who slew him. Corsair was sure no Hunter would take this gift, especially himself.

"The gift is given," Xûr stood with his hands together in front of him, "it cannot be given back." He said steadfastly, making no effort to even look at the evil weapon being shoved back in his direction. It looked just like the stories: black, jagged, a glowing green part at the front like a pair of eyes. And then there was the cold, the lack of warmth that radiated through Corsair's body from his hand the longer he held the gun.

Corsair felt his heart race, "no, Xûr, you will take this gun, I'll give you all of my strange coins if-"

"It will serve you on your journey," Xûr said. He was hunched over, but he may as well have been Corsair's height with how he held himself. "The Nine wish you well."

And with that, Xûr was gone.

Corsair's breath quickened, left with Thorn, "Gale, dismantle it." He said, as quick as he could, and watched the gun disintegrate before his eyes, and only once it was gone did he release the breath he was holding.

"Hey Corsair!" He almost jumped, jarred from his stupor. Lenore and Ambrister, a Titan and Warlock, walked up closer than he'd expected them. "Was that Xûr I just saw?"

"Come on, Lenore," the dark skinned man shook his head, "Xûr doesn't show up on Wednesdays, I told you."

Corsair nodded his agreement, "yeah, I thought I saw him too." He disappeared right when I got here," He said, hoping he didn't seem too rattled by the encounter.

Lenore groaned, "damn, I was hoping to get some peregrine greaves."

"You'll be fine," Ambrister put a hand on her shoulder, the two had always been close friends. "Now come on, Shaxx needs us on Luna as quick as we can."

Lenore shrugged, starting her walk along in the direction her friend urged, "someday. See you, Corsair!"

"Yeah, see you mate!" Ambrister wished him, and then they were gone.

Corsair stayed a moment, just letting himself calm down. Gale appeared over his shoulder, "are you alright, Corsair?"

He took a moment to reply, his heart rate finally slowing down. "I think so. I'll ask Xûr about it on Friday," He walked into the autumn sunlight, letting it warm him, though not as much as he'd like. "In the meantime, let's get that Dead Orbit test flight out of the way. We can ask Ikora or Eris about it when we get back."

* * *

"Gale, it's back," Corsair said, glad he was in his quarters. He'd been drawing up plans for a concentrated stimulus package for the border worlds, and the money required as well as the economic benefits, when taking a moment to rub his neck, he saw it lying on his new briefcase, as if it had always been there.

Gale floated above the weapon, dismantling it again without hesitation as his scanning beam ran over the gun. It could be done from wherever he went when he vanished, but Corsair had told him to be absolutely thorough when it came to the weapon of sorrow, "about 14 hours that time."

"It's getting longer." Corsair watched it vanish, like it had several times before in the past week. For the moment, until something permanent could be arranged, he'd had Gale instantly dismantle it the moment it reappeared. "Maybe before long, it'll finally stay gone."

Gale floated up beside his face, his demeanor hopeful, "maybe. It'll take a while, though, at this rate. At least a year."

Corsair nodded, looking down at his pad wired for cortex access, and found his mind wasn't on his work for right now. Tossing the pad onto his bed, where it immediately vanished from sight into his inventory, Corsair stood and left his room.

The past week had been a quiet one, relatively, and none of it had been planetside. Corsair had spent a couple days aboard a Dead Orbit frigate for a patrol one time and was practically jumping off the walls by the end. For some reason, his experience wasn't repeating itself. Perhaps it was his work with the latest branch of New Monarchy outside Sol, perhaps it was the idea of Thorn potentially appearing anywhere he went, perhaps even the hum of Serenity's engine relaxed him enough. Whatever it was, he didn't know.

As for his work, it was slow going. Setting up New Monarchy was one thing, wielding it was another. It had come out of nowhere, Corsair was the only known figure, and while Gale could make profitable investments on the fly to gain them a foothold, it would attract too much attention. If he went through with his stimulus plan right this second, the Alliance tax offices would surely love to know where he'd gotten the money for it. He would have to get it from donations, and for that, he would need reputation.

Thankfully, the opportunity had presented itself in the form of a request for Pescaline-D on Regina. The towns had an affliction of Bowden's malady, a degenerative mining disease, and had petitioned the Alliance for aid. With a few messages, and some money, Corsair had fast tracked the request, with the intention of being there when it was received. Mal had been reluctant, but had a potential job lined up in the area.

"Listen, Mr. Pryce," Mal had said, using his pseudo-surname whenever he wanted to rile Corsair up, "I thank you for your money and your promises of work, but seeing as you ain't got any jobs for us right now-"

Book was on the couch, reading from his bible. "Good morning, Corsair." He said, briefly looking up, but focusing more on the text.

Corsair smiled pleasantly as he leaned against the medbay wall across from the shepherd. Simon was inside, his sister asleep in the chair. The two men made eye contact through the glass, but didn't regard each other too strongly for now. Corsair was still looking into the academy and the contacts Simon had given him, so nothing was to come of that...yet.

What occupied his mind more was whatever had been done to his sister. From what he'd explained, the academy experimented with her brain, but to what end neither of them were sure. He'd tried to sneak into the medbay to have Gale give her a proper scan, but Simon was a watchful sibling, not leaving her alone for a second. Honestly, he couldn't blame him. Still, what was the academy's purpose? Exo research? Neural enhancement?

It would likely remain a mystery until he found this academy and dug up the answers himself.

"Is it morning?" Corsair asked, honestly. He could hardly tell what time it was unless they were planetside, Everyone during long flights seemed to eat and sleep whenever suited them.

Book thought for a moment, "I think it's actually mid-afternoon, where we've landed." He lowered his bible, making sure to hold his place with a ribbon, "the captain mentioned something about getting a drink."

Corsair processed that, "does the captain like to go drinking?"

Book shook his head, eyes demonstrating his uncertainty, "I've known him as long as you, I can't speak for his habits."

Corsair decided he might ask the captain next time he got the chance, although the odds were good he was arranging the job he'd mentioned. He'd keep that on the down low for now. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject, "you know, it's funny, I've never actually read the bible." He remarked, nodding to the book which Book had dedicated his life to.

Book actually looked a bit surprised, "not even to study?"

He shook his head, "my father never pushed it on me, I never had the interest. I do know the basics. God, Jesus, Heaven, Hell..." Corsair decided to take a low risk step, "...the Traveler."

Book nodded, at least partially pleased, "That's more or less the idea. If you like, I could lend you mine, or we could study it sometime." He held up his bible in a clear offer, but Corsair held up his hand.

"No thanks. I was curious, though," He crossed his arms, stepping out into the middle of the living room, "how exactly does the Traveler fit into Christianity? Did it become the return of god, the saving of humanity...?"

Book didn't hesitate to reply, not just as if the answer was completely obvious, but as if he was expecting the question. In either case, he didn't judge. "The Traveler was a gift from God, the church agreed, a sign humanity was ready to take our place among the stars and His creation." He explained, "after that, some tend to disagree. Some believed God thought us prideful with our creation of exos and warminds, that with the transcending of our souls, we denied ourselves heaven. And so, like the great flood with Noah, he washed away the solar system with another one."

Corsair had begun with curiosity, but it had become a more genuine interest. His eyes were serious, as were Book's, as the man had described the collapse of humanity and the before state to a T. "I take it you believe differently?"

Book sighed, looking away for a moment, "I do. I've seen too much evil, Corsair, to believe there's not a Darkness out there." He looked back up at Corsair sagely, the weight of his experiences felt with his words, "Where there is Light, there is Darkness. That includes within us, and it's up to us to choose in our hearts in which of those we stand."

Corsair thought on that for a long moment, "On second thought, shepherd, maybe we could study that bible together sometime."

* * *

As Mal came back from Niska's Skyplex, Zoe and Jayne in tow, Corsair waited patiently on the lower middle balcony, holding the railing as he faced the bay doors. Mal's response was honestly somewhat amusing, the man stopping and stiffening ever so slightly as he looked up at Corsair. "Mr. Pryce," he said, something I can do for you?"

Corsair had thought about being subtle, but he'd decided against it. As much as he could bluster and evade, he respected Mal too much to talk to him like a politician. "I have to ask, Captain," he pulled his hands off the railing, "are you on your way to do something illegal?"

Mal shook his head, his face giving away what he'd been unprepared to hide, "no." After a look from Corsair, he lowered his head slightly, "yes."

Corsair walked down the stairs, ignoring Zoe and Jayne in favor of the captain, "may I ask what that is?" He said, staying a fair distance away to not make him feel pressed.

"Ah," Mal scratched his neck awkwardly, "is it in our contract that I have to answer that?" He asked, his eyes travelling to the floor and back.

He smiled at the sight, he hadn't ever put Mal on the defensive like that. "It is a legal business contract, so obviously nothing illegal can be talked about, I think." He uncrossed his arms, "that being said, I personally would like to know."

Jayne sneered at him, definitively less respect in him than Mal had. "How do you even know we were doin' nothin' unlawful, anyway?" He deflected, terribly.

Corsair fixed him with a look, "you were on a skyplex registered to _Adelei Niska_." He stated, a name Gale had supplied when he'd hacked the surface level of the skyplex, and that Dobson's old cortex handle had outlined for him, "you weren't there to just say hello." In truth, he was asking because he'd snuck aboard the skyplex invisibly to see what the man's business was with Mal, but the meeting room was completely airgapped, with no way of hearing except being inside the room with them, which was too risky.

Mal's hands went to his hips, "is it a problem if we were?" He asked, finding a place to stand his ground.

Corsair shook his head, "I know apart from flying me around, I don't have any jobs for you. You're not exclusive to New Monarchy, so you can take whatever...side jobs you need, long as you don't get caught." He stressed that last part. The last thing New Monarchy needed right now was some bad publicity.

Mal smiled, giving a reassuring nod, "in that case, we will do our very best."

He held up a hand, "I will ask that you tell me what it is. As long as there's no murder, destruction of property..." he trailed off, unable to think of anything else to forbid. "You're an honorable man, captain, I trust you to make the distinction."

Mal nodded again, focusing a bit more, "much appreciated. I, uh...can't help but notice good old fashioned theft was something you failed to mention." He walked a bit closer, "as it happens, we've been hired to liberate some precious goods off a train tomorrow. Won't be a problem, will it?"

Corsair narrowed his eyes, "to Paradiso?"

For that he received a confused look, "how'd you know?"

"I'll already be on that train." He smiled, "New Monarchy has business in Paradiso, and I'll be nice and dressed for the occasion," he explained, turning to take his leave.

Mal called back after him, with amusement, "you going to be wearing the same fancy outfit you wore last week?"

He rolled his eyes, unable to help a smile, "enjoy it while it lasts!"

* * *

The monorail was much, much faster than any train Corsair had ever ridden on. The fact that once it got up to speed, he couldn't feel any inertia, only made it more exciting.

The last city wasn't too big on trains. There wasn't enough room to commit to a huge rail network, magnetic or classic. In terms of guardian transport, jumpships were preferred for their versatility outside the walls. In terms of hauling freight and equipment, trucks and small cargo ships were more useful for their flexibility. There was only one train in the last city that ran a basic circle in between the wall and downtown. hauling a general mix of passengers and freight, and it never went faster than 50 kilometers per hour.

And so, when he finally had found his seat, Corsair had to resist the urge to press himself against the window and marvel at how fast the landscape went by. As much as he truly wanted to, he would draw some attention he didn't need.

Another weird feeling was the newfound feeling of anonymity. He could walk down the entire length of the train and no one would give him a second glance, not even with the nice suit Corsair had donned for the occasion. It was different back home, where he was one of the greatest heroes in history.

After the Black Garden, there had been a parade. The parade itself was more or less what he'd been expecting, but it was the turning point for how they'd treated him. Before, whenever he and his fireteam had gone down into the city to help out, they'd been treated no differently than anyone else. Even wearing their full combat armor, they were noticed, but they weren't _noticed_. Even after gaining some renown in the crucible, broadcast all over the city, they'd gotten the occasional cheer, but after...

After the parade, whenever they went down to the last city, it was like the parade had never stopped. People would give up their seats, offer free food and drink, even offer to carry or move various objects for them, to name the smaller examples. It wasn't necessarily bad, just weird, not even speaking out of modesty. Returning to the tower, they were told by a wise Twilight Gap veteran that there was a reason a good amount of the more popular guardians remained in the tower most of the time, until a generation or two after the event. A small amount of necessary visits, as well as birthday parties, but nothing else.

Here, however, Corsair had an entire 'verse of people who, for now, didn't know a thing about him. True, he was planning to become a known figure, but nowhere near the godkiller as the last city knew him. Traveler knew, after slaying Crota, the last city's regard for him had only gotten worse, in his opinion.

At least the parade planned today would be about the Pescaline, not him. He could shake hands, let people see New Monarchy as a force for good, and then leave.

He was broken from his thoughts by gunfire as he casually checked his surroundings. He had to force himself not to immediately jump into action. He was just a bystander in this situation. The more he thought about it, the more he felt he had to do something. If Mal and Zoe were arrested...that would not look good.

He got up, registering the auto rifle fire as he began to move down the train. He hadn't boarded with any weapons, even though he could summon any weapon in his arsenal at a moment's notice, so he'd have to settle for his knife, which could be pulled from his sleeve without drawing attention.

An alliance soldier held up a hand as Corsair moved into the next car, one that had several more to back him up. "Sir, there's been gunfire. I have to ask you to stay over on this side of the train."

Corsair shook his head, "I'm former alliance military, I thought you boys could use some help." He said, trying his best to convince the man.

To no avail, it seemed. "That may be, but we have it handled, sir," the soldier gripped his rifle a little tighter. Corsair decided to take the soldier at his command, not wanting to provoke him, and moved back to his car.

The train stopped less than five minutes later, and rather forcefully, as if it hadn't been expecting it. Corsair was ushered out along with the rest of the passengers, and managed to slip out of the huge crowd. Looking around, he saw the same soldier as before, escorting people out of the station and into the dirt road that ran against it, "excuse me!" He called over, darting between two people, "sir, can I ask what happened?"

The soldier seemed more talkative than he had been on the train, "there's been a theft, move back, sir." He asked, nodding back to where the passengers were being corralled for the meantime.

Corsair honestly wasn't sure whether it was within his ability to press further, so he didn't, instead taking a look around the town of Paradiso. The sheriff and his deputies were already moving out to help with the situation, a group of maybe 5 people overall, plus what were probably a few volunteers. The town itself was everything Corsair expected from a frontier town, plus what he'd seen of a few small towns out in the wilds of Earth. It was dusty, had an obvious mine, and the mine and the train station seemed the only real landmarks within it.

A fed ran up to the sheriff, "our man didn't get a look."

"Well, Jesus," the sheriff said, cursing, "can somebody find out what they took? Handy!" He called over to the crowd, meeting Corsair's eyes for a split second, "keep those people together!"

Corsair did a mental tally of what Mal and Zoe could've taken. Engrams, weapons, or...

His heart sank as he realized, just as one of the deputies ran up to the sheriff, "it's the medicine, sir, all of the supplies."

The sheriff was agape, "they took the gorram medicine? We've been waiting...all of it?"

"Every ounce," the deputy reported, and as Corsair found Malcolm Reynolds' eyes in the crowd, it took all his effort to resist the urge to run up and punch him in the face.

* * *

Corsair made a distinct effort to avoid Mal and Zoe while each of the passengers of the train stayed in the makeshift holding area. It had been an hour, and the only interaction he'd had with Mal was the glare he'd given after leaving the train.

For once, he was glad there were no guardians (or anyone else he knew, for that matter) with him, because this was something absolutely none of his friends would let him hear the end of. Frankly, he should've seen it all coming. Corsair was overseeing the shipping of an important thing, while the captain admitted he was intending to steal something important as well. It was a coincidence, and Mal and Zoe's vocal likenesses had been enough to disarm his suspicions of coincidences for the time being. Never again.

In any case, he'd never felt so embarrassed. Thankfully, the sheriff asked to speak with him next, saving him from his ruminations.

The man in question seemed completely relaxed at his desk, but as Corsair looked him over, he found evidence to the contrary. The man's cigarette, for example, was a third of the way finished, and his hands still shook ever so slightly.

"Mr. Pryce," the sheriff spoke, looking over one of those papers that displayed moving text like a screen. A scroll, Gale had told him it was called. Corsair wondered how exactly they worked. "Says here your ticket was paid for by New Monarchy, same as the medicine."

Corsair nodded, "that's right, sheriff...?" He asked, though Gale had already told him.

"Bourne, sheriff Bourne," the man shook his hand, "how long have you worked for New Monarchy?"

Corsair had to take a moment to remember his story, "officially, we've been around for two weeks, but my old CO brought me into it a month ago."

"And before that?" Bourne asked, nonplussed by the answer.

"There was the war, of course, but after that, I...honestly wasn't doing much of anything," he admitted, looking down, "that's when my CO approached me."

Bourne nodded, lighting up another cigarette, "I looked into your finances, Mr. Pryce," he muttered, shaking out his match, "or tried to, at least."

"I don't believe my finances are any of your business, sheriff," Corsair insisted, hoping Gale had all the details of his finances nailed down. Gale had tied most of his finances into his falsified military record, and thus anything before a little after the war was strictly redacted.

The sheriff tossed the scroll onto the table, focusing on Corsair, then one of his deputies, "Pescaline-D...makes a tidy fortune on the black market, don't it?"

The deputy nodded, "it does, sheriff," she confirmed, not saying anything further.

Corsair met sheriff Bourne's eyes quickly putting the implication together, "hold on," he leaned forward, "you think _I_ stole the Pescaline?"

Bourne leaned back in his chair, puffing his cigarette, "I'm not entirely sure, Mr. Pryce, you tell me."

Corsair was leaning forward in his seat, almost standing, and he forced himself to sit back, "how dare you," he levelled his eyes at the man, "I'm here to help people."

"Maybe you are," Bourne levelled his eyes right back at him, "is that the only reason you're here, Mr. Pryce? I ain't complaining about help, but...first humanitarian agency I've ever seen out here. Can't say it don't raise a few eyebrows."

Corsair's jaw dropped before he regained his composure, "I didn't take it, sheriff, I swear it." He steeled his voice, "I realize it might seem suspicious, but...if you let me leave, I'll go so far as to track it down for you. You have the word of New Monarchy."

Bourne watched him for a long moment, gauging him before he nodded to his deputies, "thank you, Mr. Pryce, if you'll please," he gestured back to the holding area, the deputy allowing him to stand and take his seat once more.

To say that Corsair was fuming was an understatement, and it was only tempered by the fact that Bourne didn't know who he was. To accuse a guardian of anything in the last city, much less him, an aspiring executor with New Monarchy, would've been taken with the utmost seriousness.

Corsair realized he'd been too far into his head to realize where he sat down: right in front of Mal and Zoe. They both were watching him with the eyes of small children who refused to admit they had done something wrong. "Good evening, weary traveler," Mal remarked, the picture of innocence.

It took a moment, but finally, he made eye contact with Captain Reynolds, "evening," he muttered, "such a shame these people had their medicine stolen out from under them."

"Yeah," Mal looked down at the dirt between his feet, "wonder what'll happen to those thieves." He took Zoe's hand as one of the deputies walked past, giving the deputies a smile.

Corsair waited until the deputy moved on, not trying to hide his discomfort, "that depends," he said, "maybe after seeing the situation, they'll decide to give it back."

The look Mal gave him was absolute, "maybe they've already decided."

He smiled at the captain, realizing the man must not have known. At least, that's what he'd hoped was the case. Without another word, he stood to find another place to sit. He should've known better not just to ask about the job, but so long as the captain's decision was based on his morals and not his fear of Corsair, maybe he could trust him fully later on. The only thing to do now was to find a way to escape and get the medicine back.

Luck was on his side that night, as Inara showed up not much later to grease the wheels, heading straight for Mal and Zoe.

"What the hell-" Mal began, standing, before she punched him in the face. It wasn't a horrible punch, enough to make him stop and reevaluate his words.

"Don't you dare speak to me!" She turned to Bourne, "sheriff, I want this man bound by law at once," she paused, letting the venom loose from her face, allowing herself to become graceful yet again, "that's assuming he hasn't been already?"

Bourne, naturally, seemed unprepared, but got back on his feet quickly, "uh, no one's been bound, not yet."

Inara looked relieved, "thank God you stopped them," she said, before turning back to Mal, "did you honestly think you could access my accounts and I wouldn't find you? And Zoe, what would your husband say if he knew you were here?"

Zoe seemed just as off guard as Mal. Thankfully, it worked for the story. "I...I was weak," she stammered out, slowly playing along.

As the sheriff began to inquire with the companion, Corsair realized it was his turn to take advantage of the chaos. He moved behind the crowds, who seemed focused on the drama, and let the light refract around and through his body, turning invisible in a second. It was easy to find Inara's shuttle after that, parked in the middle of town, it wasn't exactly hidden. He had to give the crew of the Serenity credit, they were good in a tight spot.

The trio entered the shuttle a few minutes later, and it was only when the door closed when they dropped the act. "_jian ta de gui_," Mal said, frustratedly as he rubbed his face. "We are never going to come back here again."

"You know what they say," Corsair walked out of the shadows with a smile, making it look like he had been hiding, "the 'verse is a big place. Plenty of room to avoid places."

Zoe looked like she'd been about to say something, but Mal spoke over her, "oh, did you plan this with her?" He nodded to Inara up front.

"Is that Corsair?" She called back, focusing more on flying her shuttle as fast as possible without looking like she was in a hurry.

"It is!" Corsair called over, "and no, but I take opportunities when I can get them."

"How'd you sneak onto the shuttle? There must've been people watching it." Zoe asked, her question the more sensible of the two.

Corsair had to grin at that, "oh, I have a few secrets I'm allowed to keep. So, I take it we're-"

Mal sighed, "we didn't know what the cargo was. We'll be taking it back."

He nodded, believing him, "glad to have everything on the table."

* * *

The crew were waiting for them to return, as Kaylee stood right at the door when they walked out.

"Hey! How'd it go?" She asked, chipper as ever.

Mal's response was as annoyed as it had been when they took off, "she hit me."

Corsair started to make his way down the stairs, but ended up snickering as he saw the doped up man lying on the platform. "We tried to get him to the infirmary," Kaylee explained, "he's just...heavy"

"Captain," Wash finished hugging his wife to follow them down, "I've got the engine running, we're good to go."

Corsair shook his head, "we won't be going anywhere."

Wash looked to his captain for confirmation, "not...what? Not why?"

"We're bringing the cargo back."

Jayne called down, slurring, "wha? Whadda ya mean, back? I waited for you guys!"

Wash kept his role as the voice of concern, "what are you talking about? What about Niska? Won't this put him in more or less a killing mood?"

"There's others need this more." Mal said, with a tone that suggested his word was final.

"And if it does put him in a killing mood...you're under the official protection of New Monarchy." Corsair pulled his knife from his sleeve, waving it gently between two fingers, "which means me."

Zoe was already gathering up the cargo, "let's get it on the mule."

"My shuttle's faster," Inara offered, but Corsair knew Mal wouldn't have it.

"You already risked enough flying in there once." He warned, "and I don't wanna get slapped around no more. Far as Niska goes, we'll just have to explain to him the job went south when we return the money."

Wash and Corsair seemed to notice the same thing at the same time. "If you want to explain," the suddenly serious pilot said, nodding outwards, "now's your chance."

Niska's men, six in total, were walking up the ramp, led by a big, ordinarily scary (not to Corsair) man with a tattoo covering half his face. "You didn't make the rendezvous." The leader said, focusing on Mal in particular.

Corsair and Mal exchanged a glance, Corsair taking a definite step back as he nodded to him. The captain focused back on the lead man, "ran into a few complications."

The lead man looked at the scene, then back at Mal, "you were thinking of taking Mr. Niska's money, maybe."

"Ah, interestingly, neither." Mal said, amicably.

"...I don't understand."

"Yeah, look." Mal lowered his charming demeanor to clarify, "here's what it is, deal's off. We changed our minds."

"You entered into an arrangement with Mr. Niska," the man said, sternly, "there is no mind changing."

Mal gave a nervous laugh, "I'm afraid that's where you're wrong. We just...we can't take this job, so you just relax. We'll get you all the money Niska gave us up front, you return it to him, and we'll call it even." Corsair had to admit, it was a good offer. Unfortunately, he could tell their guest was uninterested.

"There is no even," he maintained.

"Is that right?" Mal said, and the fight began with the man's blade in the captain's shoulder..

Corsair barely ducked aside to avoid a bullet to the shoulder, his back hitting a nearby crate as he registered more gunfire breaking out. Looking out, he saw Wash, Inara, and Kaylee already hidden in the mess of crates and cargo, and breathed a sigh of relief. Mal was in a fight with the big man, and seemed to be holding his own, while Zoe was providing cover fire. Thankfully, the rest of Niska's men weren't too keen on firing in the direction of their leader, but that only left Zoe pinned down.

Tapping his pointer and his thumb together three times, he pulled his new hand cannon out of his inventory, the one he'd liberated from a street gang on Boros last week. He would eventually need to name it, but that was hardly his first priority at this time.

Zoe had already taken down one of the men, firing from her hip with her rifle and ducking back behind cover. Corsair raised his gun, taking care as he fired outwards. He wasn't sure about ricochet, but one of the other men went down to a shoulder wound. He would've kept it up, but the big man had shoved Mal aside and threw a punch at his direction.

Corsair ducked, the big man hitting the crate he'd taken cover behind, and went on the attack, dropping his gun. His punches were light, but quick, in Bladedancer style, but the man managed one hit, right to his stomach, and Corsair felt the wind knocked out of him. If he had been wearing his armor, he might've tanked that, but he was still wearing his suit from earlier, and it hurt enough for the next punch to knock him down.

His back hit the cargo bay floor as he gasped for breath, Mal going on the attack in his place, and he focused on his recovery. He could vaguely hear the sound of the mule in the background as he forced himself to sit up, just in time to witness the captain get thrown to the ground. The big man grabbed his blade, raising it to kill Mal, and Corsair pulled out his knife and threw himself upwards to stop it.

A gunshot rang out, and the big man fell to the ground as his knee buckled from the bullet, just as Corsair reached the spot where he had been standing. Mal looked upwards from his spot on the floor, "nice shot."

Jayne's aim was still shaky, but admittedly, from his spot on the catwalk, he had the perfect vantage point. "I was aimin' for his head."

* * *

Corsair felt the night breeze on his face as the mule sped through the blackness. It was a nice change from riding a sparrow. On a sparrow, one always wore a helmet, as the maximum speed of a sparrow was 160 kilometers per hour, and guardians were always looking to increase that number. The mule had a maximum speed of 40 if it was pushed, and had considerably less danger of swallowing a bug or landing flat on your face.

After some travel, Zoe brought the mule to a halt near the edge of town, the trailer with the Pescaline stopping with them. Without further ado, they dismounted.

"What are we thinking?" Corsair asked, to neither one of them in particular, "am I the hero who brought back the stolen medicine, or are we anonymous samaritans in the night?"

Even as he spoke, he knew which he would prefer. It may not earn him the same worship he'd gotten in the last city, but he was still reluctant to get any at all, even if it was for feats befitting a mortal man. He'd have to get over it, being a notable figure in New Monarchy here. He'd be doing plenty among the people with no tower to take refuge in.

Thankfully, Mal agreed with him, "We'll leave 'em just off the street, have to drag 'em from here. We'll notify the sheriff when we're in deep, deep space."

As Corsair opened his mouth to reply, he heard a familiar voice, "why not tell him in person?" So that was why Corsair had felt like they were being watched.

Sheriff Bourne walked down the nearby rise with his men, guns in hand. Corsair thought he detected a hint of amusement as the sheriff looked at him, but the moon wasn't bright enough to be sure.

"Got word of a ship not far out, came lookin'" Bourne said, taking in the scene, "didn't expect to find you coming back, 'specially when you snuck away like that."

Corsair shrugged, "I believe I made a promise."

The main deputy checked the Pescaline behind them, "nothin' missing." She confirmed.

Bourne looked to Corsair understandingly, "I guess New Monarchy is true to their word, after all." He remarked with a smile.

Corsair let out a breath, smiling, "that we are."

"Those two work for you?" He asked, nodding to Mal and Zoe.

He winced, "they do, normally. Today they were running a side job for someone else. Would you believe what happened today was an...unfortunate accident?"

Bourne thought a moment, looking from Corsair to Mal. "You were truthful back in town. These are tough times. If a man can get a job, he might not look too close at what that job is. But a man learns all the details of a situation like ours, well, then he has a choice."

Corsair looked back to see Mal's coldly serious expression, "I don't believe he does."

The sheriff nodded in approval, then addressed his men, "get these crates into town, make yourselves useful." With that, he tipped his hat to the trio, and turned back towards town.

Corsair watched them leave, and it wasn't until the mule started up again that he thought to take his eyes away.

"So, uh," Mal said, a bit awkwardly, "we...almost ruined all your work here. Gotta ask, are we...?" The captain made a gesture in between the two of them as his way of finishing the sentence.

He raised an amused eyebrow, "fired?" Corsair asked, shaking his head, "on the contrary, captain." He mounted the mule, "this is why _you_ have the job."

Mal looked at Corsair, managing a smile, "I'll keep that in mind." He moved to sit with him as Zoe drove them back.

"Of course, you do have to tell me about every single side job you're doing from here on out."

"...every single one?"

"Every one. I'm adding it to the contract."

Mal was silent for a moment, before muttering, "son of a bitch."

* * *

Corsair watched as Mal forced the man, the name of whom he learned was Crow, to his knees beside the ramp, the engines slowly powering up in the background. Crow groaned as he moved his knees apart. "Now this is all the money Niska gave us in advance," He held up the pouch, "you bring it back to him, tell him the job didn't work out." Mal explained, as Crow spit on the ground in front of him, "we're not thieves...but we are thieves. Point is, we're not taking what's his. Now we'll stay out of his way from here on in. You explain that's best for everyone, okay?"

Crow didn't reply immediately, instead standing up before the captain, "keep your money. Use it to buy a funeral. It doesn't matter where you go or how far you fly. I will hunt you down, and the last thing you will see will be my blade." He vowed menacingly, with a slight sadistic grin.

"Damn," Mal said, solemnly, before raising a foot and kicking Crow into the engine. Corsair winced as he listened to it happen from where he stood, only knowing the sound from the deaths of a few of his fellow guardians. After that, the next man was brought over, sporting a green beret. Mal began his speech again. "Now this is all the money Niska gav-"

"Oh, I'm good!" The man said, almost excitedly as he saw his way out, "best thing for everyone! I'm right there with you!"

Now was time for him to step in. "One more thing." Corsair moved from where he stood. He'd wanted to deliver his warning, but Mal told him to wait for him to make sure they'd be receptive. Probably for the best, as it was captain Reynolds' business first, New Monarchy's second.

Mal just hadn't told him how he'd accomplish that.

He got to one knee in front of the man on two, the man becoming wary as to the new presence. "If I hear New Monarchy business has been interrupted or interfered with by Mr. Niska again, I will hunt him down, and personally send his skyplex down to Ezra in as many pieces as I can."

The man's eyes grew wider with each word. With Mal, the way out had been clear, but what Corsair was declaring was radical, tantamount to war if handled wrong. "Oh, he won't like that."

"He doesn't have to," Corsair levelled his eyes at the man, giving him a glare only the slayer of a hive god could give. "When I say personally, I mean it. There won't be any mercenaries or hired guns, just me." With that, he drew his knife and moved behind the man. He gasped in fear, but Corsair's knife only met the ropes binding him. With a nod, the crew followed his example.

As they all ran off, Corsair turned back to Mal, Zoe, and Jayne, all with curious expressions on their faces. "What'd you say to him?" Jayne asked, gripping his auto rifle.

Corsair looked between them, "terms." He said, simply, "Niska will leave you alone from now on."

"And if he doesn't?" Zoe asked, having watched the fleeing men until they had disappeared completely into the darkness.

Corsair smiled, "then I'll introduce myself. I'm told I'm good at introductions."

* * *

At the end of it all, Corsair finally ended up back at his quarters, exhausted. Guardians were indeed stronger, healthier, and more powerful than a normal human, but they still needed food, water, rest, and after a day sitting in that holding area after a not as comfortable train ride...Corsair could think of nothing he wanted more than his comfortable bunk.

Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable bed he'd slept in, but after a few occasions he'd had to live for a week or two at a time in the wilds, it was hardly the worst, either.

He had barely walked in when he saw it. Thorn was on his nightstand, as if it was waiting for him. He'd been expecting it at some point, but in all the commotion of the day, Thorn had left his mind completely. "Gale," he asked, forgetting the open door behind him, "how long has it been?"

"Twelve hours," he said, dismantling the weapon of sorrow yet again in record time.

"That's shorter than before," Corsair observed, watching it vanish as he always did. In a way, part of him just wanted to be sure.

"Guess it's not letting go," Gale vanished again.

He stood for a moment, he'd have to come up with a new plan to deal with it. Gale still had a few pages of Toland's journal they'd salvaged, maybe the mad Warlock's wisdom would be of use here. In the silence of his thoughts, however, he heard only a soft voice.

"-the noble man had doubts...the rose lost all petals...only thorns."

He wheeled around, jaw slack in shock. Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing? He could hear Simon and Mal in the infirmary as he stepped out into the corridor. Following the general direction of the voice he'd heard, he stepped further, into the threshold of one of the adjacent living quarters, instantly recognizing the figure hugging her knees on the floor. "...River?" He asked, confused as ever.

The girl didn't even regard him, as if hiding from an animal in the room that was stalking her, "two by two, hands of blue." She nearly whispered, "two by two...hands of blue..."

Corsair wasn't sure what to say. "River?" He knelt down, putting a hand on her shoulder lightly, and her eyes fixed on him like he was the only thing in existence.

Corsair had seen the look in her eyes once before: when he'd stared into the eyes of Crota, son of Oryx. It was a look of hatred and superiority that only a god could wield. It was all Corsair could do to not stumble backwards in momentary terror. "It's terrifying, isn't it?" She spoke with a disconnected tone, yet the voice was entirely hers, "the things that lurk in the shadows?"

Then she stared at the wall again, repeating the phrase from earlier as if nothing had happened. "Two by two, hands of blue..."

With nothing else to say and no concept of what to do, Corsair retreated into his room, locking the door, as much good as it might do, and threw himself at his pillow. Maybe he needed more sleep than he thought.


End file.
